


Ex Nihilo

by merulanoir



Series: We Name Each Other [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Badly established relationship, Depression, M/M, M/M/M, Military Background, Modern AU, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt Mention, past drug use mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merulanoir/pseuds/merulanoir
Summary: A sequel to 'Uncharted.'How to heal, how to be honest, and how to push through? Three people, all equally lost; because falling in love is never the end of a story. Geralt is falling too fast. Dettlaff is running from his past. Regis knows that he is hurting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I owe my beta [Dordean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dordean/pseuds/Dordean) a lot. This fic, as well as the prequel, are infinitely better because of her tireless efforts. <3
> 
> This fic talks about serious mental health issues. There are mentions of a past suicide attempt, drug use, as well as several references to PTSD. If you're reading this, you're most likely familiar with the prequel; this one gets a bit darker and sadder. It's a story that needed to be told.
> 
> The military I write about is not meant to correspond to any real-life army. I draw from my own experiences as well as several fictional and factual sources. In the end, however, this is a work of fiction, and if some part of it seems stupid, I recommend squinting hard and reading on.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr, come say hello! ❤️ (@merulanoir)

**I**

Geralt was driving, and then, right when he pulled off the highway and towards the big department store, Dettlaff put a hand on his thigh and let it rest there. His hand was warm and heavy, and it stayed there until Geralt killed the engine in front of the store.

Geralt turned his head to say something, and Dettlaff hooked a hand behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss. Geralt must’ve let out a sound, because there was a chuckle from the backseat.

“ Don’t make him blush, Dettlaff.”

Regis poked his head between the front seats and peered at them both, eyes narrowed with a smug smile. “The whole store will think he’s terribly embarrassed about something.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but he could  _ feel _ the blush creeping up his neck. “How about we go and find the bulbs and the tape, and then take this somewhere else?” he grumbled without any heat.

Regis grinned at him. “Not the worst idea you’ve had today, my dear.” His dark eyes turned mischievous before he reached a hand to brush against Geralt’s cheek. “I still don’t understand why you would feel the need to get rid of the beard. It was charming.”

“ Ciri’s bringing her girlfriend over tomorrow. She said I look scary with a beard,” Geralt muttered as he got out of the car, knowing full well the explanation would not receive better acclaim now than it had in the past few hours.

“ Scary? You?” Dettlaff said when he exited the car. “Hardly.”

Geralt saw his mouth quirking up, and suppressed a smile of his own. The truth was, he did look scary, beard or not, but if Ciri asked him to shave, he’d gladly do it; had done it, in fact, and then endured endless ribbing by both of his lovers.

_ Lovers. _

The word sent a small shiver down Geralt’s back, and it had nothing to do with the November chill that had overtaken the city. He was hardly daring to believe it, even after almost a month.

To anyone else, they probably looked like three close friends who had come to shop for car parts; he the only one who knew what the hell he was here for, and the two trailing after him with amused looks. Even Regis and Dettlaff, who had been together for over eight years, managed to make things seem like there was nothing special going on.

It couldn’t have been further from the truth. The past month had been the weirdest time in Geralt’s life, and for a former soldier from a secret special operations unit that was saying something. It had also been the best thing to ever happen to him, if one counted out Ciri.

Geralt couldn’t remember ever being happier, even if that feeling was accompanied by vast amounts of confusion, apprehension, and sheer shyness. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been feeling _shy_ , and now that emotion seemed to accompany him daily.

Once, Regis had pulled him back from the door and kissed him deeply before telling him to have a good day, and Geralt had blushed so badly even Eskel had noticed it at work. Dettlaff had taken to lying down on the sofa with his head on Geralt’s lap, and it always made Geralt feel like a fucking teenager. He kept getting flustered. Dettlaff thought it was delightful, and it only served to make it worse.

Regis thought it was adorable and often told him as much; it was definitely not a word Geralt had ever associated with himself. Dettlaff teased him less, but Geralt knew the fucker enjoyed throwing him off the loop; the scene at the car was the latest proof on the long, long list.

And he was feeling horribly, disgustingly happy. After they had agreed to try having something together, Geralt had spent less and less nights at his own apartment. There hadn’t been another Talk about whether they were in a relationship or just fucking, but it was starting to resemble every other serious thing Geralt had ever had. Sure, they fucked, but they also made dinner, talked about work, watched movies, and bickered about who got to sleep in the middle.

“ Why so glum?” Regis asked Geralt as they walked through the sliding doors into the mercifully warm interior of the huge warehouse.

Geralt glanced at the doctor and took in the dark curls, the sideburns he’d originally thought funny but which he now liked immensely, and the inquisitive gaze. It all registered unconsciously under a category labeled ‘stuff that makes me happy.’

“ Nothing,” he said with a wry smile. “Maybe I should just dump you guys here and go get what we need. Should be faster that way.”

“ Absolutely not,” Regis told him in mock-affront as they wandered into the store. “Whatever would we do if our car front lights go out on us again, and you’re not on hand to help us?”

“ We’d come to the store and  _ ask _ ,” Dettlaff said from where he was walking behind them. Geralt threw him a smirk over his shoulder, and got one in return. The only substantial thing that had changed during the month was the fact that Dettlaff had found a new fascination with cars, and thus had started to accompany Geralt to his garage more often than not.

Regis thought it was hilarious that his partner, an English professor who could play Chopin’s  _ Études _ by memory, was suddenly becoming engrossed with dirty and oily parts attached to equally dirty and oily cars. Geralt thought the contrast was mind-blowingly sexy, but he had kept quiet and contented himself with being happy for the company.

The garage had been Geralt’s safe place for a decade and he had guarded it almost jealously, but after getting to know Regis and Dettlaff it had been natural to invite them there. Only later had he  thought about it; he hadn’t even invited Eskel or Lambert to hang out there.

Geralt peered at the signs and navigated towards the right aisle to locate the kinds of bulbs Dettlaff’s sad excuse of a car ate. He could hear Dettlaff and Regis argue good-naturedly about something behind him, and once again he had to remind himself that he was there with them; that they were together. The thought made him fiercely happy and uncertain at the same time. How could he ever hope to catch up on their shared history?

The bulbs were easy enough to find, and when Geralt returned to the main aisle he saw the argument was still going on. He stalled, taking in the two men, and his heart gave a violent lurch at the sight.

Dettlaff was the dictionary definition of ‘tall, dark, and handsome.’ He even dressed the part, when he wasn’t stuck under his misbehaving Toyota at the garage. Today he was wearing a long, dark coat and black jeans, and even in the fluorescent light of the store Geralt could tell he was just insanely gorgeous.

Regis was shorter than either of them, but there was something wickedly clever about his face. After the first glance it was tempered by his kind eyes and the unruly hair, but Geralt still kept catching the sight of it now and then. Regis was all dark eyes and quick smiles, and combined with the soft, calm voice he was easily one of the most attractive men Geralt had ever met, even if he wasn’t classically handsome like his partner.

And together they made such a stunning pair it astonished Geralt how could anyone  _ not _ see they were together and deeply in love. He saw it: it shone from the easy way they never bumped into one another when they moved around, and how they had developed an entire language of fleeting, private touches and expressions that served as signs of affection in public.

Dettlaff turned his head and his vaguely annoyed expression softened when he saw Geralt watching them. Geralt had no idea what was on his face, but it must have been something. Dettlaff strode to him and came to a stop just a touch closer than was strictly platonic.

“ Did you find them?” he asked. “Forgive us, Regis has some wrong opinions about the movie we watched and I got caught up in trying to make him see that.”

“ I can imagine how that is going,” Geralt chuckled, fighting back laughter.

“ Mm. Not well at all. But it serves to rile him up,” Dettlaff muttered just as Regis joined them. The doctor shot Dettlaff a look that spoke volumes of what he thought about the discussion they had just had, but which somehow still made Geralt swallow against a dry throat. He started towards the other aisle he had spied earlier to keep his mind out of the gutter.

Regis joined him when he inspected the insulation tapes. The doctor, too, had taken to invading Geralt’s personal space quite liberally. Sensing him standing just far enough to brush against him when he moved made Geralt feel warm and happy, even if he himself was still hesitant to initiate contact. Once they were touching, he could be sure it was alright, but getting close enough for that was still something he shied from. As stupid as it sounded, he occasionally felt like an intruder.

Regis had also developed an uncanny and occasionally annoying ability to read Geralt’s facial expression and body language eerily well.

“ You’re still feeling shy,” Regis said quietly to Geralt, who was crouching in front of the display and trying to discern why on earth there were four kinds of double-sided tapes on the market.

“ Huh?” Geralt said, squinting at the labels. Only then the words registered and he looked up.

Regis was smiling at him, and his hand briefly brushed against Geralt’s shoulder. “You are happy to touch and be touched, but you almost never initiate the contact,” he said as Geralt stood up. “Dettlaff remarked on the same thing earlier.”

Geralt looked down. He didn’t know what to say.

Regis stepped a little closer, and since he was a few inches shorter than Geralt, it prompted the latter to finally meet his eyes. They were kind and warm, and once again Geralt thought how odd they looked; almost black, especially in the artificial, harsh light.

“ I’m hoping you will learn it’s fine,” Regis murmured. “I like it. Dettlaff likes it. You don’t need to worry about making either of us jealous.”

“ I know,” Geralt answered. “I just feel like I’m somehow intruding.”

He hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly, but Regis was also very good at fishing stuff out of him. The doctor gave him a smile that had a hint of sadness at the edges.

“ You’re not. And we’ll tell you the same thing as many times as needs be.”

The rest of the shopping trip was conducted in a comfortable silence. When they finally paid and exited the store, twilight had progressed into an encroaching evening, and the parking lot was dark.

“ Wonder why they have no street lights here,” Geralt thought aloud as they walked back to his car.

“ Oh, they do,” Regis said cheerfully. “They just don’t come on until eight o’clock. Something about saving electricity in the public lots; it was in the local newspaper this week.”

“ Mm. Too bad they didn’t take into account we usually don’t have snow in November,” Geralt muttered as he dug out the car keys with numb fingers. It was almost freezing, and he had forgotten his gloves.

Just as he got the keys out from his pocket, a large, unfairly warm hand covered his. Geralt looked up, and then Dettlaff backed him against the car and his other hand came up to cup Geralt’s jaw.

Dettlaff regarded him for a split-second and then swooped down to nuzzle just beneath Geralt’s ear. The contrast of a hot breath and a cold nose sent a shiver down Geralt’s back. A stray worry of someone seeing them skittered across his mind, but it was gone the second Dettlaff moved up and kissed him. It was deeper than back in the car, almost possessive.  


“ I want you,” Dettlaff said in his low voice when they parted. “And I know Regis has some ideas.”

Just like that, Geralt could feel all blood rushing south and his doubts evaporating. That dark voice was unfairly good at getting him worked up, and the tension from earlier seemed to have put him in the mood to get as close and physical as possible.

Dettlaff looked at Geralt’s face closely, and what he saw seemed to please him a lot. He stepped back and let Geralt unlock the car doors. When they pulled away from the parking lot, Regis sneaked a hand between the front seats and buried his fingers into Geralt’s hair and started stroking gently.

“ Careful, so he doesn’t crash the car,” Dettlaff murmured dryly, when Regis’ hand tugged at the strands and Geralt’s breath hitched.

“ Oh, I had no intention of working tonight, my love,” the doctor laughed in answer.

The second the front door to Regis’ and Dettlaff’s apartment closed, Dettlaff pressed Geralt against it and started kissing him. His hands sneaked under Geralt’s jacket and pushed it off. Geralt, already panting and trying to hang on for dear life, buried his ice cold hands under Dettlaff’s shirt and made the man recoil with a horrified yelp. Geralt laughed and then reached out to drag Regis closer, too. The doctor had been watching them with amused thoughtfulness, and he took a firm grip on Geralt’s chin when he pressed closer.

“ You’re eager,” he murmured.

Geralt grinned. “The tests came back today. All negative.”

Regis’ eyes widened in delight when he understood what was being said. His grip tightened minutely and then demanding lips closed over Geralt’s. Geralt shuddered under Regis, who bit his lip before pulling back. “In that case, I _do_ have some ideas,” he said in a low voice.

Geralt swallowed. They’d discussed the topic of trying out bdsm together, but thus far the time had not seemed right. Now Regis was stepping back and crossing his arms, smirking. Geralt glanced at Dettlaff, who was smiling widely at him.

“ Do you want to play?” Regis asked them both. Dettlaff nodded right away, and Geralt mirrored him a second later.

“ We can start out slow,” Regis continued, his sharp eyes glued to Geralt’s face. “I trust you know how safe words work?”

Geralt nodded again. Dettlaff came to stand next to him and sneaked a hand around his waist before nuzzling his hair.

“We use ‘Prometheus.’ Is that one fine for you?” Regis asked.  


Geralt let out a laugh. “Yeah. Shoulda guessed you’d be fancy even in the bedroom.”

Regis chuckled. A finger tapped his lips as he considered Geralt further. For some reason, being under such intense scrutiny in these circumstances was very sensual. It was like Regis had so much things he wanted to do he had to take a step back to consider them all. Geralt held his gaze, and he could feel himself flush. Dettlaff kept standing close, his hand tracing small circles on the exposed skin on Geralt’s side.

“ Do you like to be bound?” Regis finally asked.

Geralt swallowed and nodded.

Regis clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I’m going to need you to talk to me. With full sentences,” he said quietly. Geralt knew the play was starting, and it sent a shiver down his back.

“ Yes, I do,” Geralt said.

Regis’ eyes moved over to Dettlaff. “Maybe we can discern what he likes?” he asked in that same tone, and Geralt saw Dettlaff nod, grinning.

Geralt was directed to the bedroom by Dettlaff, who then proceeded to strip him slowly. His hands were warm again, and they moved with slow certainty. Geralt tried to reciprocate, but Dettlaff took hold of his hands and held them firmly.

“ You don’t get to touch. Not yet,” he said with a smile. It had a lovely note of hunger to it, and Geralt felt himself grow harder.

When Dettlaff finished, Geralt was standing before the bed naked. Regis came in and sat on the bed, wearing only his trousers. He looked at Geralt and nodded approvingly to Dettlaff.

“ The leather one ought to do,” he said offhandedly as his dark eyes kept roaming over Geralt. Dettlaff disappeared from Geralt’s side to rummage through a closet and returned a moment later with a soft, black leather strap. He took hold of Geralt’s hands and crossed them behind his back.

“ Are you sure?” Dettlaff asked before proceeding further. Geralt nodded, and only when Regis’ eyes darkened he realized his mistake.

Dettlaff’s hand closed around his ponytail and pulled his head back, baring his throat. He pressed a kiss there before biting down, gently at first. When Geralt let out a whimper, Dettlaff bit down harder, causing him to moan. His cock was more than half-hard already.

“ Let’s try again,” Dettlaff said when he pulled back. “Are you sure?”

“ Yes,” Geralt said with a slightly hoarse voice. As he felt Dettlaff started to loop the strap around his wrists, he met Regis’ eyes again.

The doctor was leaning back on his hands, feet crossed at the ankles. In the dim light of the bedroom, his eyes looked black and hungry. Regis held his gaze for a while before letting it drop lower to his cock.

When Dettlaff finished, Geralt tested the bindings out of a persistent habit. Dettlaff clearly knew what he was doing; blood flow wasn’t obstructed, but there was no way Geralt would break free without some serious effort. After some shuffling, Dettlaff’s arms came around his waist to hold him in place. His naked chest pressed against Geralt’s back, and the first hint of an erection could be felt through his jeans.

“ Now, then,” Regis mused as he sat up straight. “You will tell me what you like. And I need you to be precise. My first question is, do you like to be hurt?”

“ Yes,” Geralt said. Admitting it felt vaguely embarrassing, but he was rewarded by Dettlaff’s hand squeezing his hip encouragingly. “Pretty much anything that doesn’t leave a lasting scar is good.”

Regis smiled at that, and Geralt saw him exchange a heavy look with Dettlaff.

“ It’s clear you like being with both of us at the same time, but how do you feel about both of us taking the dominant role?”

Geralt felt his head short-circuit at that. He’d suspected Dettlaff could play both roles, but he had never actually met a switch before. The mere thought of submitting to both of them made his cock jump.

His hesitation was received with a lifted eyebrow. Dettlaff’s hand pulled away from his waist to slap his ass, hard. Geralt let out a sound between a moan and a yelp. A second hit followed, forcing a similar reaction out of him. When his eyes focused again, he could see Regis was growing hard.

“ Yes, I’d like that,” Geralt choked out. Dettlaff chuckled darkly from behind him before kissing him on the spot he’d bitten earlier.

“ You’re lovely,” he whispered. His hand dipped lower and brushed against Geralt’s cock. “And so eager to get us both. I could spend all evening watching you grow frustrated for us.”

His other hand came up, caressing the scars on his chest as it went and finally pushed against Geralt’s lips. Geralt opened his mouth, and allowed Dettlaff to fuck his mouth with his fingers, sucking and licking them and hoping desperately that it was the right thing to do.

A second later Dettlaff pulled the fingers out and reached into his pocket with his other hand. He brought out a simple, black cock ring and presented that in front of Geralt. Regis’ grin widened when he turned a questioning gaze to Geralt.

“ Go for it,” Geralt rasped. He was wrecked, and they hadn’t even started.

Dettlaff let the spit-slick fingers slide against his growing erection before sliding the ring into place. The effect was immediate; pressure started to build, and Geralt drew in a breath.

“ Oh, shit,” he groaned.

He saw Regis stroke himself through his trousers, and the doctor followed his gaze with narrowed eyes.

“ What’s on your mind, Geralt?” he asked in a sly voice.

Geralt licked his lips, and again his second too long silence was received with a hard slap. He rocked forward, until Dettlaff caught him by his waist again and drew him against his chest. He was fully hard, too.

“ Do you want to suck Regis?” he whispered.

“ Yes,” Geralt said immediately. “Please,” he added, addressing Regis, who drew in a breath.

“ Come here then,” Regis said quietly and undid his trousers. Geralt knelt down in front of him and let Regis thread his fingers into his hair, loosening the hair tie off. His fingers then tightened, drawing Geralt in until he was hovering over his lap.

“ You look very pretty like this,” Regis cooed. “And it seems you rather like getting forced on your knees.” With that, he pulled Geralt down.

Geralt was gently lowered until his nose touched the dark hair at the base of Regis’ cock. Regis kept a hard grip on his hair, and Geralt had a fleeting thought about how Regis could guess he loved having his hair pulled. Then the doctor started to guide him, and all sensible thought backed off.

“ You’re so good,” Regis gasped. He pushed Geralt down harder and then held him there. “Swallow,” he growled, and Geralt did as he was told, fighting his gag reflex. Regis made a breathy sound above him before allowing him to come up for air.

Suddenly he felt the bindings loosen around his wrists. He couldn’t turn his head, but Dettlaff’s hands reappeared on his hips and tugged him on all fours, his hands flying to Regis’ thighs to avoid stumbling.

Regis glanced at Dettlaff and what he saw made him smirk. “Good idea, love. I bet he’ll like it.”

Geralt had half a second to feel confused, and then a lubed up finger slid inside him.

“ Oh, oh,  _ damn _ ,” he choked out just as Regis pulled him back on his cock and resumed the leisure pace.

Dettlaff opened him up with sure hands, and Geralt feared he might come there and then, without anyone touching his cock. He was so hard he was almost hurting, and precum was dripping from his shaft. He was distantly aware of canting his hips up to meet the fingers, and being rewarded with the digits crooking. He made a muffled cry around Regis’ cock.

Dettlaff swept his free hand down Geralt’s back before squeezing his buttock hard.

“ I’m going to fuck you,” he said in a low voice. Regis made a breathy sound at that.

“ _ Look _ at him,” the doctor groaned. “He’s ready to come.”

“ I know.” Dettlaff’s cock was brushing him teasingly, and Geralt attempted to grind into it. He got a firm slap for his troubles, and then Dettlaff finally pushed in, slowly and luxuriously. Geralt whimpered. The feeling of being filled so thoroughly was filthy and perfect. Regis pulled him down again, and Geralt swallowed around him without further prompting. The doctor gave a small cry and then he started guiding Geralt’s head up and down faster, just as Dettlaff started to really, truly fuck him. The rhythm was off, but Geralt felt his gut go tight as his cock throbbed against the ring. Fuck, without it he would’ve come ages ago.

He felt Regis’ cock grow stiffer against his lips, and tried to sweep his tongue against it for extra pleasure. A stray thought told him they had never agreed on whether it was okay for Regis to come into his mouth, but when the doctor made to pull him off, Geralt pushed down against the sting in his hair and sucked hard.

Regis came with a choked moan, hips bucking and hands gripping Geralt’s hair. Geralt held on to his thighs and when he managed to swallow, he just pulled off and leaned his head down. Dettlaff increased the tempo, and Geralt sobbed against Regis’ lap.

Regis, still panting, cupped Geralt’s cheek and turned his head just enough to catch his eye.

“ Can I touch-?” Geralt asked in a ragged whisper. Regis’ mouth fell open and then he was nodding frantically.

“ _ Yes _ , you may touch,” he said as his hands swept the hair out of Geralt’s eyes. “Stroke yourself, Geralt.” His voice was rough with some emotion Geralt had not the presence of mind to name just then.

Geralt reached down, and the barest brush against his heavy, swollen cock made him sob again. Dettlaff’s breath hitched when Geralt tightened around him, and he moaned.

“ I’m so close,” he rasped, hands gripping Geralt’s hips so hard there was surely going to be a set of bruises.

Regis grinned, his hand reaching to grasp Dettlaff by his chin. “Let him come first, love. Manners and all.”

Dettlaff made a desperate sound at that, his nails digging into skin. Geralt felt it all, and then he let out a broken, hoarse cry as his orgasm tore through him. He started coming, spurting all over his hand, and Regis gripped his hair again as he bore down on Dettlaff. He felt hips slam into his ass once, twice, and then Dettlaff stilled completely and let out a cry of pleasure.

Dettlaff eased out of him gently a short while after, and all three of them crawled into the bed. Regis pulled Geralt down against his chest, and Dettlaff snuggled close, until Geralt could tell there wasn’t much of them that wasn’t touching.

This was what he really, really liked about the sex with Regis and Dettlaff. Both of them were cuddlers, and not even remotely ashamed to act on their urges. Geralt had always liked getting to be close with the people he loved, and now he had his arms full of warm limbs and sated smiles.

The word ‘love’ rankled against some sharp edges inside his chest, but he pushed it aside.

Dettlaff heaved a long, satisfied sigh against Geralt’s neck. “Goodness,” he murmured. “That was something else.”

Geralt pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I haven’t been that thoroughly fucked in many years,” he grunted, and Regis laughed at him.

“ Considering the fact that you claim you haven’t sucked a cock in twenty years, I’d say you’re a devilishly quick study.”

Geralt grinned sleepily. “Hey, don’t make me blush.”

Dettlaff chuckled as he drew back to look Geralt in the eye. His hand came up and stroked down the newly shaved cheek, and then he kissed Geralt slowly. Geralt melted against him.

When Dettlaff pulled back, he was definitely flushed. “I’m happy you’re here,” he said quietly.

Something twisted almost painfully inside Geralt, and he blinked a few times. At the same time, he felt Regis stiffen for half a second before going slack again.

Geralt turned around enough to see Regis’ face. The doctor was looking down, and until Geralt cupped his cheek and gently pulled him closer he refused to meet Geralt’s eye.

“ Hey,” he said, feeling Dettlaff push himself up and peer at his partner over him. “Everything okay?”

Regis finally looked up, managing a small smile. “I’m fine, honestly.”

Dettlaff’s hand reached out, and the doctor took it. “Regis...” Dettlaff begun, but Regis shook his head.

“ Not now. Please?” he asked them both, his eyes just a bit pained.

Geralt dropped his head back on the pillow and drew Regis closer. After a second’s hesitation Regis relaxed against him and one arm came to hold him by the waist.

“ You’re amazing, Geralt,” Regis whispered against his neck. Geralt brushed his lips against Regis’ brow.

“ So are you,” he said. The worry kept nagging at him, but as Regis pressed a soft kiss on his neck he, too, relaxed.

***

“ This is fucking bullshit!”

Geralt lifted his bleary eyes from the computer screen. He was pulling a double shift, because the new guy had broken his leg last week and the management had deemed it unnecessary to hire someone to cover for him. The office was looking like something out of a bad 80’s sitcom.

Lambert turned around, seething. “Have you seen the new roster?” He asked, nostrils flaring.

Geralt blinked a few times as he stood up and walked to the noticeboard. He looked at the paper which held the next month’s shifts and made a disgusted groan.

“ Yeah!” Lambert said. “We’re having six night shifts next week, on top of the paperwork from the four cases.”

“ Eskel’s on day duty,” Geralt muttered. “But- oh, shit.”

Lambert squinted at the roster. His eyebrows shot up. “He’s not having a single day off for two and a half weeks.”

Geralt rubbed his temples. He still had two hours to go before he could go home and crash, and he was feeling a headache formulating a plan of attack inside his temporal lobe.

“ We need to go speak to the cap. No way this can go on until Stevens comes back.”

“ You go,” Lambert muttered. “I’m just going to say something to land myself a few more Friday nights with the force’s finest.”

He saw Geralt lifting an eyebrow. “Hey, I may be loud, but I’m not stupid,” the younger man said. “If I go in her office like this, we’re both going to have trouble. You go, she respects you.”

Geralt shrugged. He ripped off the roster and took the stairs up. The harsh, fluorescent light was making his eyes sting, and he once again questioned his decision to continue this line of work.

Ciri was no longer living with him; when she had been little, a steady paycheck and a regular job had been just what was needed to counterbalance their occasionally chaotic home life. It had worked out alright, but now Geralt was feeling like he was lying in a stagnant puddle of petty office gossip and endless overtime. The municipal government had cut their budget for the fifth year in a row, and it was showing.

Everyone was overworked and grumpy, the staff was changing all the time, and the captain had even had to lay off some personnel just a few weeks ago. Geralt sighed as he faced his commanding officer’s door, wondering whether it was of any use to even knock and talk about the roster.

The door banged open and hit him squarely in the face, and Geralt recoiled with a muffled yelp. His captain was standing frozen in the doorway, her coat on and a harrowed expression on her face.

“ Geralt! Oh shit!” she groaned. “I’m so sorry! I was in a hurry and-”

Geralt shook his free hand at her. His other hand was clutching his nose, which was bleeding copiously and hurting like a bitch.

“’ S'okay,” he mumbled, trying to avoid getting blood in his mouth.

The captain looked at him with a pained expression. Geralt saw her hair was showing more gray than it had a year ago.

“ I’m sorry I have to leave you like this, but I just got a phone call from the bureau,” she said, brushing her hand against Geralt’s shoulder. “Go get some ice on it, and the next lunch is on me.”

She started towards the stairs, and Geralt turned to follow. Abruptly, she turned around.

“ Did you have something for me?” she asked as she continued walking.

Geralt shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait.” His voice was sounding nasal, and his face felt like someone had stuck a red-hot poker into it.

“ It’s about the roster, isn’t it?” The captain grimaced as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I know it sucks, but it can’t be helped. “

“ Sure,” Geralt grunted as he waved her goodbye and made his way back into their office.

Lambert and newly-returned Eskel looked up in alarm when he entered.

“ Did she hit you?” Lambert croaked in horror. Eskel rolled his eyes and went straight to the freezer.

“ No, you idiot,” Geralt huffed as he sat down. “She ran out of the door and I was standing there like a fucking moron.”

Eskel made an annoyed sound from the freezer. “Some dickwad has used the last ice pack and didn’t bother to replace them,” he said as he straightened up, looking apologetic.

“ Amazing,” Geralt sighed. He took a look at clock. Still almost two hours to go. His nose would be the size of an apple by the time he got home.

“ Get going,” Lambert said as he sat down on Geralt’s desk and strewed several important papers to the floor. “Go home. You look like you’ll keel over any minute now.”

Geralt tried to muster up an argument, but his nose gave a particularly nasty throb and some blood trickled on to his shirt between his fingers.

“ Fine, whatever. I’ll just tell the sarge my boss assaulted me with a door when he tears me a new one.”

Geralt decided to forgo changing out of his uniform to avoid getting blood all over his civilian clothes. At his car, he tried to staunch the blood flow enough so that he’d make it home. Just when he was as close to satisfied as possible, his phone rang.

“ Hi, Regis.”

“ Hello. Why does your voice sound so weird?”

Geralt sighed and accidentally swallowed some blood. He tried to gag as quietly as he could, but it was hard to fool a surgeon.

“ I had a small incident with a door. My nose isn’t looking very pretty at the moment.”

He heard Regis draw in a breath. “Where are you? Have you put ice on it?”

“ Just leaving work. And no, we didn’t have any at the office.”

“ What?” Regis asked. His normally gentle voice sounded scandalized. “Come home. I’ll take a look at it.”

“ I thought you were at work,” Geralt said as he started his car.

“ Yes, but it seems you could use my help. I had the afternoon reserved for office hours, but those can wait.”

Geralt knew there was no point to argue. After disconnecting the call he turned his car towards Regis’ and Dettlaff’s apartment. His head was starting to ache on top of his nose feeling like it was going to fall off at any moment.

Regis opened their front door and let out a horrified groan.

“ Oh, dear,” he said as he ushered Geralt inside. “Sit down in the kitchen. I’ll get you that ice.”

Geralt allowed the doctor to steer him into a chair. A moment later an ice pack was finally placed against his nose, and he made a relieved sigh. Regis made him swallow a painkiller with some water.

“ Is it still bleeding?” Regis asked as he sat down, holding the pack in place with gentle hands.

“ Don’t think so.” Geralt suddenly felt very tired.

“ What happened?” Regis stroked his arm, his dark eyes full of worry.

“ I was going to go have a word with our captain about the newest roster, but she opened the door a bit too fast for me to catch it.” Saying it out loud made Geralt feel like an idiot.

“ What’s wrong with the roster?” Regis moved the ice pack slightly, making Geralt wince.

“ We’re so understaffed it’s pretty hideous. I’m having six night shifts next week alone.”

Regis’ eyes widened indignantly. “Six?”

“ On top of the paperwork.”

The doctor made an unhappy sound. “You look exhausted. You were looking tired when we saw each other on Sunday, but now it’s worse.”.

“ What day is it?” Geralt asked, and it was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Regis grimaced.

“ It’s Wednesday, my dear.”

Geralt sighed. “I’ve been on duty for almost twenty six hours. We’re so understaffed everyone is pulling some crazy overtime.”

“ I’ve noticed your hours have been weird lately,” Regis said, nodding in understanding. “Are they going to remedy the situation?”

“ Dunno. Probably not,” Geralt muttered. Now that the pain was dulling, he felt exhaustion crash into him with full force. His head was full of cotton, his neck was aching, and he felt sweaty and dirty under his clothes.

“ When are you working next?” Regis asked after a moment of silence as he removed the ice pack. Geralt raked his brain as Regis wet a towel and carefully started to wipe off dried blood.

“ The day after tomorrow. I have a long morning shift.”

“ Will you stay?” Regis smiled at him

“ If you don’t mind me doing nothing else but sleeping,” Geralt said and stifled a yawn.

Regis chuckled as he put the towel away.  “ I’m going to feel your nose to make sure it’s not broken. I’m sorry, I know it hurts.”

Regis’ fingers were wonderfully cool, and Geralt tried to remain as still as possible. He felt them gently running up and down the side of his swollen nose, and then press down gently. He made a face at the pain.

Regis withdrew his hands and slid them behind his neck, stroking the hair gently.

“ Not broken, just fractured, I’d say.”

“ Yay,” Geralt said.

Regis smiled. “I’m guessing you’d like to take a shower and then get some sleep?”

“ Yeah.”

Geralt vaguely remembered showering and then pulling on a pair of boxers he had forgotten at his lovers’ place. Regis had tucked him into bed and the rest was swallowed by dreamless sleep. The next thing he knew was the mattress dipping and someone crawling in, pulling him close and pressing a careful kiss on his forehead.

Geralt pried his heavy eyelids open. The room was dark, but he could make out Dettlaff’s face inches away from his.

“ Hi,” the man said in a low voice. “How are you feeling?”

“ Like someone gave me the bitch slap of my life,” Geralt yawned. The painkiller was apparently starting to wear off, because his nose was throbbing again.

Dettlaff smiled and stroked his hair. “Regis told me. He also suspected you’ll soon need another pill and maybe some food, so he sent me to come wake you up.”

“ What’s the time?” Geralt asked as he sat up and carefully rubbed his eyes.

“ Almost six in the evening.”

They ended up having a simple dinner and watching a few episodes of the latest scifi series Dettlaff was obsessed about. Geralt had been pulled to lie practically on top of Dettlaff, and he hadn’t complained. Regis was nestled into the other end of the sofa, engrossed in a book and his legs tangled with Geralt’s.

Geralt listened to Dettlaff’s offhand remarks about the show and allowed his mind to drift. He knew he’d soon fall asleep again, but for now he was content to be cuddled and taken care of. It was weird, but not bad weird.

Just as his eyes started to droop his phone made an ungodly racket on the coffee table. Geralt sat up and tried to reboot his brain. When he saw Ciri was calling he immediately perked up.

“ Hiya, kiddo,” he said as he stood up and walked into the kitchen.

“ Hi,” Ciri said, and something about her voice told Geralt she wasn’t simply calling to catch up.

“ What’s up?”

“ Same old. My lectures are killing me, and I broke up with Anna.”

“ Sorry to hear that. What happened?”

Ciri heaved a dramatic sigh, which alone told Geralt he didn’t need to worry if his daughter was heartbroken. “It just wasn’t working out. She said I spend too much time studying. Can you believe that?”

“ Yeah.”

“ Fuck off,” Ciri laughed. “I have a question.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. Ciri wasn’t one for finesse. Wonder where she’d picked that up.

“ Shoot,” he said, already regretting it.

“ Where are you? I was feeling all morose and thought I’d stop by because our last grand fight was staged in a cafe not far from where you live, but you’re not at home.” Ciri was smirking, Geralt could  _ hear _ that. He rubbed his neck.

“ I, uh. I’m at a friend’s,” he tried, lamely.

“ Uh-huh.”

“ Scout’s honor.”

“ I call bullshit,” Ciri laughed. “I bike by your house when I go to school, and your car hasn’t been parked there on several nights during the past two weeks.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. Damn overly curious brat.

“ None of your business,” he grunted.

“ Do you have a girlfriend?” Ciri asked, and Geralt could picture the shit-eating grin on her face.

“ No.”

“ Boyfriend?” Ciri quipped in return, and Geralt managed to inhale some of his own spit. He started coughing so hard Regis peeked his head around the corner. He looked alarmed.

“ Are you alright, Geralt?”

Geralt tried to wave him away, but he could tell Ciri had overheard by her jubilant shriek.

“ Aha! I knew it!”

“ It’s not-” Geralt begun, but Ciri was giggling and clearly not listening to a word he tried to say.

“ I expect I’ll get to meet him in the future, just so you know,” she said, trying to stifle her glee and failing badly.

“ Dream on, brat,” Geralt sighed.

“ Okay, love you. I just wanted to bust you. My job here is done, go give him a kiss and say hello from your adorable daughter.”

She hung up before Geralt managed to tell her what she thought of her sleuth work.

When he walked back into the living room, both Regis and Dettlaff looked up. Regis grinned at him.

“ I take it Cirilla had some choice words to offer?” he said in a tone that told Geralt he should do everything he could to make sure those two never met each other.

“ My brat of a daughter said hello,” he grumbled and sank back into the sofa.

“ Ah, so that’s why you sounded like you were trying to cough up a lung,” Dettlaff laughed. “Did she guess you’re seeing someone?”

“ Not only that,” Geralt sighed. He saw Dettlaff glance at Regis, and he knew they put two and two together.

“ Have you told her you’ve had a boyfriend in the past?” Regis asked gently as he put his book away and wrapped an arm around Geralt’s shoulders.

“ No, but that’s not what worries me,” Geralt said. He left the sentence hanging there.

He hadn’t intended to broach the subject of their relationship yet, perhaps not ever, but the truth was that sooner or later someone was going to notice. He had known Ciri would likely be the first one to spot something had changed, but his friends at work were not the stupidest people on earth, either. Geralt just hadn’t dared to think how the conversation would go.

Geralt heard Dettlaff sigh as he turned to look at him.

“ You know how I feel about you,” he said quietly as he lifted a hand to cup Geralt’s cheek. Geralt nodded mutely. Dettlaff looked at Regis before continuing. “I know we never discussed what this really is, but for me it seems clear we’re not just fucking. I don’t invite casual flings over for dinner six nights a week.” He managed a small, uncertain smile.

Suddenly Geralt realized he had not spoken about his own expectations or hopes since that first night. He’d confessed he was falling in love, but that had been buried under the massive wave of relief when he had not been kicked out. Now he wondered whether all of them were feeling equally lost and just trying to put up a front of knowing where they were headed.

His thoughts were interrupted by Regis clearing his throat. The doctor suddenly looked miserable, and a cold trickle of fear ran down Geralt’s back. He recalled every instance of Regis looking solemn or distant in the past weeks, and regretted not asking about them more often. It had been happening quietly, and when he  _ had _ asked, Regis had shrugged it off and continued looking unhappy.

“ I still don’t know how this will work,” Regis said in a small voice. “I’m sorry. I’m not ready to call this anything.”

And just like that Geralt knew how he felt.

He was in love with both of them. He loved Dettlaff for his certainty and slow smiles just as much he loved Regis for his readiness to help and provide comfort when it was needed. Damn it, he had known all along how he felt, but hadn’t dared to tell them because their relationship was still fragile and new.

And now he could not tell, Geralt realized with a stab of pain. Not now, because if Regis ended up not wanting him, Geralt would lose both of them. He knew he could never come between Regis and Dettlaff; it had been the only thing he had known with absolute certainty right from the start. If Geralt blurted out he was in love, it would make Regis feel awful and cause Dettlaff even more pain.

Geralt smiled as he violently crushed the whirl of emotions inside his chest. He took Regis’ hand and gave it a squeeze.

“ We can take more time,” he said. “We’re not in a hurry.” He felt like absolute shit when he said it, but managed to avoid showing any of the roiling misery inside him.

Dettlaff made a small sigh. Geralt saw him fiddle with his watch strap, and he couldn’t resist taking his hand, too. The man looked up at him, and his clear eyes looked sad.

“ I understand,” he said in a rough voice. Geralt felt a violent, painful twist inside his stomach. He would’ve given anything to kiss Dettlaff and assure him he wasn’t going anywhere if he could help it, but he only stroked his thumb over the smooth knuckles.

“ Hey. It’s alright,” Geralt said and managed another smile. Dettlaff nodded and swallowed.

Geralt looked at Regis. “Should I go?” he asked. He didn’t want to leave, because if he did, he would spend the night lying awake and fearing he might never get invited back; but if the two needed to talk or just be together without him, he had no right to intrude.

“ No,” Regis said. “I’d like you to stay.”

“ But you guys need to talk-” Geralt begun, and the doctor lifted his hand in a comfortingly familiar gesture.

“ We won’t be doing that today, at any rate. You’re injured and I’d feel horrible for kicking you out after asking you to stay,” Regis said and some of his familiar good mood seemed to resurface. “And we’re not changing anything, I just need some time to think things through.”

Geralt clung to his words and attempted to calm down. Regis’ eyes didn’t miss a thing.

“ Oh dear, I’m sorry,” he muttered and pulled Geralt into a kiss. “You look so distressed. I didn’t mean to worsen your day,” he added when Geralt had to pull up for air. He still wasn’t getting much air in through his nose.

“ It’s fine.”

Geralt turned to look at Dettlaff. He was still looking nervous and sad, but he, too, smiled when Geralt kissed him.

Geralt clambered up from the sofa when they were done. “I’m going to brush my teeth if you’re sure I can stay,” he said and received two sets of nods. He escaped from the living room and made a point of washing his face and brushing his teeth as slowly as possible to give the two some privacy.

When Geralt exited the bathroom, he could hear low voices from the living room. He crept past the doorway and into the bedroom as quietly as he could and tried his best not to eavesdrop, but he still caught a few fragments of a discussion before closing the door.

“ -just tell him.”

“ It’s not- I can’t.”

“ He’ll understand.”

“ It’s not fair-”

Geralt was almost asleep when the two finally joined him. Dettlaff pushed as close as humanly possible and wrapped his arms around Geralt. Geralt felt Regis brush a hand through his hair before the doctor climbed on to the other side of the bed and snuggled closer to his partner.

***

By the third night shift Geralt and Lambert had had to agree on a list of topics which were not to be discussed. It started on relationships, stretched to family, army, and ended at fantasy movies. There were a lot of topics they couldn’t find common ground on, but those were the kind of issues which inevitably resulted in shouting.

By the fifth night Geralt had crossed over from tiredness to the other side, leaving him feeling vaguely stupid and apprehensive. Lambert, who wasn’t faring much better, was drinking his fourth coffee of the evening. They were gearing up for the night at the office when Geralt’s phone rang. He picked it up, half-expecting Regis or Dettlaff, but he didn’t recognize the number.

It had the military routing code.

Geralt escaped the stuffy office all the way to the backyard before picking up.

“ Hello?”

“ Geralt? It’s Roche.”

Geralt blinked a few times. The last time he and Roche had met, they had shouted their voices hoarse. Roche had been a newly-recruited leader of the company the former special operatives had been delegated to.

“ Roche, hi. What the fuck?” Geralt blurted out. He wanted to whack his head against the nearest wall, just to clear the fog.

“ Nice to hear from you too,” Roche laughed. “Shit, it’s been years.”

“ Yeah, almost fifteen?” Geralt said numbly. He had liked Roche a lot when they had been working together, but their last meetings had been wrought with mutual distrust.

“ Listen, I know we parted on bad terms,” Roche continued. “And I apologize for being a dick. I promise the piss has been drained from my head by now.”

“ No worries,” Geralt chuckled. “Not like I was much better.”

“ True. But, water under the bridge and all that.”

“ What’re you doing nowadays?” Geralt asked as he huddled against the freezing cold. “Your cell number tells me you’re still in the army.”

“ Yeah, like I could do anything else,” Roche grumbled, not maliciously. “I’m working at the same base where we started our shining careers, truth to be told. They saddled me with running the battalion recently. I hate the paperwork.”

“ So nothing’s changed,” Geralt sniped and laughed.

“ No. What about you? I heard you went and became a cop?” Roche asked.

“ That’s the dreary story. I’ve been here ever since I said goodbyes to the armed forces.” Geralt glanced at the clock and noticed he had less than five minutes before he’d need to have his gear on and be in the car. “Listen, Roche, not that I don’t like talking to you, but did you have a reason to call? I’m on night duty with Lambert, and he’ll make me drive if I’m late.”

“ Oh, the prick’s there too? I was going to call him next, but if he’s working I’ll postpone that,” Roche muttered. Then he cleared his throat. “But yes, this is not a social call. I’ll get straight to the point: I’ve been tasked with assembling an infantry unit with special focus on intelligence and reconnaissance. I recently got the green light to start calling old operatives, and ask if anyone is interested in rejoining.”

“ Civilian post?” Geralt asked, already knowing the answer.

“ Hell no,” Roche said without any humor. “Good non-commissioned officers are fucking hard to find, and there’s no way the brass are letting me recruit anyone with any experience as anything less than a sergeant.”

Geralt stared ahead, not seeing the filthy asphalt or the frozen puddles.

Roche read his silence correctly. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to ask, but we could really use people of your caliber here. I’ll be honest with you: at the moment, we’re fucked. We have the next class coming in January, and almost everyone I’ve called has either hung up on me or told me to go fuck myself before doing that.”

Geralt cleared his throat. It was suddenly hurting like he had swallowed something prickly.

Roche went on. “I’ll let you think about it. Give me a call if you’re even remotely interested.”

“ Alright,” Geralt croaked out.

“ I’ll let you get to work,” Roche said. “Take care.”

“ You too, Roche. Say hello to Ves,” Geralt said, and then the line went dead.

Lambert was already in the car, the motor idling as he tapped out a message. Geralt was surprised to see the younger man had elected to drive. Once Lambert was done, he pulled off and they started the preliminary round.

Geralt sat in silence, but his mind was churning. He had sworn he’d never go back to the army after he had finally gotten himself out. He had spent years rebuilding a civilian life, clawing his way out of the depression and anxiety, and trying to raise Ciri at the same time.

He had been offered therapy right after he had been discharged, but he had been too young and stupid to accept the help. Only years later had he understood he was a textbook example of a post-traumatic stress disorder, and had cursed himself for not getting help when the wounds had been fresh and aching.

And now Roche had called and asked him to come back, and the worst part was that Geralt was actually tempted to say yes. The life as a police officer had never held any greater ideals or ambitions for him; it had simply been the only logical step he could take when he had been handed a five-year-old girl and told to keep her alive. Geralt had picked a goal and then raced towards it.

“ Hey, did you forget your tongue at the office?” Lambert finally asked. Geralt glanced at him, and tried to come up with something.

Lambert had joined the S.O. unit three years after Geralt. He had been a crack-shot with a nasty temper and an endless repertoire of dirty jokes. Geralt had been made his big brother, and until they had done a few missions together, they had been ready to claw each others’ eyes out on a regular basis.

“ Roche called,” Geralt finally said, deciding he needed to confide in someone. Judging by Roche’s tone, he was going to call all former operatives, and if Lambert got a call unannounced, the man might say something that could technically be counted as a threat.

“ WHAT?” Lambert yelped and then slammed the brakes to avoid colliding into the car in front of them.

“ Watch out, you idiot-”

“ What the fuck did you say?!”

“ Pull over!”

“ Why the fuck is that cocksucker calling you-”

“ Lambert! Pull over!”

When they were parked into a handicapped spot Lambert immediately turned to stare at Geralt. Geralt took a few seconds to register the man’s face as worried, of all things. Then it clicked.

Geralt had been the only one who had been asking questions about that last mission. He had almost been dishonorably discharged because of that, and only his team mates had prevented that shit from hitting the fan. Lambert was thinking Geralt was in trouble. Geralt almost laughed, but then realized Lambert might well deck him if he did.

“ Relax. He asked me to come back,” Geralt said quietly.

Lambert opened his mouth, closed it, and then let out an honest to god growl.

“ What. The. Fuck,” he hissed. “After all the shit they pulled, that fucker has the nerve to call you and ask if you want to go back?”

Geralt had known he had not been the only one who had been feeling like the scum of the earth after they had heard the death toll of the mission. He had simply been the first one to open his mouth, and then the only one stupid enough to keep going when the officers had told them to look the other way. But seeing Lambert almost breathing fire after receiving the news reminded Geralt why they were friends. Brothers.

“ He’s a battalion commander nowadays. They need people to come and educate the recruits,” Geralt continued when Lambert seemed to calm down enough to stop shouting.

“ And of all the people Roche picked you?” Lambert asked. He was staring at Geralt like he hoped the whole thing was a bad joke.

“ He’s calling all former ops from our unit,” Geralt told him.

In two seconds, Lambert connected the dots. Contrary to Geralt’s expectation, he didn’t continue shouting. Lambert leaned his head back and burst into hysterical laughter.

“ Oh holy fucking fuck,” he wheezed. “He’s gonna call me as well, isn’t he?”

“ I guess so.”

“ Shit, I’m going to tear him a new one,” Lambert giggled. “There’s no way on god’s barren earth I’m ever going back.” The man wiped his eyes, and Geralt saw the minor tremor that shook his hand before it disappeared. Geralt wasn’t the only one who had been affected by the past.

“ So I take it you’re going to say no?” Geralt asked, just to get it over with. He knew what was coming next.

“ Fuck, of course I’ll say no!” Lambert glared at him. “I had enough.” Then his eyes narrowed, and Geralt saw them grow cold. “You didn’t say no.”

“ I didn’t say yes, either,” Geralt muttered, but he knew it was no use.

Lambert’s lips thinned and he looked like he wanted to puke. “I remember you swearing to me and Eskel you were never going back,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “You think I have forgotten how you were when we came back? How we all were?”

“ No,” Geralt said quietly. He was feeling like shit.

“ And you’re considering throwing away your life again, just because Roche deigned to call you and say he might’ve made a mistake?” Lambert continued. His nostrils had gone white, and Geralt recognized it as a sign of danger.

“ And this is better?” Geralt answered, gesturing to the car and their uniforms. “I have never liked this, but I had no choice back then.”

“ And now that Ciri’s grown up you’ll just say goodbye, daddy will go kill some more civilians?” Lambert snarled. “Sure, Roche can call it a cushy NCO post all he wants, but we both know it will not end there.”

Geralt had no answer to that. He looked out of the window.

Lambert scoffed. Geralt could hear he was shaken, but it was getting buried under layer upon layer of anger. Just like in the past.

“ Fuck. Whatever. It’s your funeral.”

The rest of the night passed in frigid silence, as did the one after that.

***

Geralt woke up to knocking. For a while he was feeling so disoriented he thought he had fallen asleep in the car and some drunk was tapping on the window. Then his brain woke up and he saw he was in his own bed. The knocking continued. Geralt pulled on a shirt and sweats before opening the door.

Dettlaff grinned at his disheveled appearance.

“ Hello,” he said as he crossed the threshold and hugged Geralt. “You look like you’ve had a rough week.”

Geralt buried his head into the still-cold scarf and inhaled the familiar smell. “Mmhm. I got home a little after five in the morning,” he grunted.

Geralt felt Dettlaff glance at his clock. “So you’ve at least had almost eight hours of sleep.”

“ I guess so. The last thing I remember is kicking off my boots,” Geralt said and yawned. “Come lie down with me?”

“ Sure,” Dettlaff smiled as he shrugged off his coat and unlaced his shoes.

“ You’re not teaching today?” Geralt asked as he flopped on his back on the bed. Dettlaff took off his neat shirt and crawled in, coming to rest against Geralt’s side.

“ No. The hopeful ones are having a break week, during which I’ve instructed them to get some rest and get as drunk as possible,” Dettlaff explained. His hand slipped under Geralt’s shirt, stroking his chest slowly.

“ Hopeful ones? You mean the PhD kids?” Geralt chuckled.

“ Who else? You need a special sort of masochism to undertake that particular task.” Dettlaff didn’t pause his petting as he twisted up and kissed Geralt. “So, I have the afternoon off, and instead of using that to catch up on some important reading, I decided to come see how my favorite police officer is doing.”

Geralt kissed him back, enjoying the caress and reaching to pull Dettlaff closer. “Much better now,” he murmured when they parted.

Dettlaff smiled before kissing him again, and Geralt felt a painful twist in his chest. Once again he was on the verge of simply blurting out how he felt. He would’ve given almost anything to be able to tell Dettlaff exactly what he needed to hear. What they both needed to hear.

Instead of doing that, Geralt rolled them over, dragging Dettlaff on top of himself. The man chuckled before bringing his weight carefully down and slotting a leg between Geralt’s.

“ Anything in particular you’re thinking?” Geralt purred. Dettlaff bit his lip, considering him, and then he leaned down, brushing his lips against Geralt’s ear before whispering to him.

Geralt mouthed at Dettlaff’s straining cock as he worked a third finger inside him, slowly and teasingly. Dettlaff kept drawing in deep breaths, gripping the bed sheets.

“ How’s it going?” Geralt asked him, grinning as he sucked kisses on the sensitive inner thigh and crooking his fingers. A wordless cry was the only answer he got, and it was almost too much. Geralt let his fingers slip free and then slowly pushed in. His chest slid against Dettlaff’s, and when he was fully inside there wasn’t much of him that wasn’t pressed close to his lover.

He had known how Dettlaff wanted to do this, and if Geralt couldn’t whisper how much he loved him, he could at least fuck him gently and try to show how he was feeling.

Because no way was he able to hide it, and neither was Dettlaff; his eyes kept searching for Geralt’s, and there was a hint of sad desperation to his kisses even as he kept smiling a soft, careful smile. Geralt sped up his strokes, and the smile crumbled into a breathy grin.

Afterwards they lay tangled together, sweat cooling and gorgeously filthy. Geralt had taken care to finish Dettlaff off with all the attention he could provide, and in the end his own release had been like an afterthought.

Dettlaff tucked his head into Geralt’s neck and let out a satisfied breath. His other hand, which was not currently trapped under them both, kept tracing patterns on Geralt’s chest, mapping out the scars, and dancing on top of the fine hairs.

“ Where did you get this one?” he asked quietly, running his index finger along a thick, ugly scar that started right under the left nipple and curved almost all the way to Geralt’s navel.

Geralt craned his head, and for a second he was watching his blood darkening the fatigues as dust clung to the soaked fabric.

“ A mission went up the shit creek,” he said quietly. “We missed our rendez-vous and had to run out of a hostile neighborhood. Our troop leader told us to take a shortcut over a building. We went up a ladder and jumped down on the other side. I stumbled and fell on a rusty pole.”

Dettlaff drew in a breath as he took in the scar. When he turned to look at Geralt, his eyes were wide.

Geralt looked away. “A few inches to the side, and I would’ve been dead on the spot,” he finished. “As it went, I missed all major organs and only got an ugly souvenir.” He swallowed, stepping on the scrabbling apprehension.

He had never really talked about his scars to anyone. No lover had wanted to know their stories before, and now Geralt suspected he had made Dettlaff regret asking.

He pulled the man’s face towards himself and kissed him lightly. “I’m sorry. It’s not pretty.”

Dettlaff pulled away and looked at Geralt for a while. Then he cupped his cheek and kissed him forcefully. Geralt slid his hand into the messy, black curls.

“ Never apologize,” Dettlaff panted when they parted. “I want to know about them.” His eyes were glistening with a stubborn expression. Geralt didn’t know how to answer, so instead he dragged Dettlaff down for another kiss.

***

When Regis got home, his eyes narrowed as he smelled the air. Then a grin broke out as Geralt pushed his coat off and sneaked a hand around his waist.

“ My, what a treat,” Regis laughed when they finally made it to the kitchen. Geralt had remembered Regis mentioning he had been craving Indian food, so Dettlaff had cooked for them. They’d had all afternoon to prepare the food, which had mostly consisted of Geralt being trusted with a knife to slice the vegetables and then ordered to sit down and keep company as Dettlaff did the heavy lifting.

“ You’re lovely,” Regis sighed as he kissed Dettlaff and sat down. “I had a hellish day, and I was just about ready to suggest take-out.”

“ It was Geralt’s idea,” Dettlaff laughed. “I went to collect him and he had the foresight to bribe me into cooking.”

Regis’ dark eyes found Geralt’s, and they flashed with a tender smile. A trace of the familiar shadow passed over his face, but it vanished immediately.

As they ate, Geralt kept going over the phone call with Roche. It had seemed like a lucid dream earlier, but now it was weighing him again. With a clear head, Geralt knew it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get the hell out of the dead end job he was currently stuck in. If only he wouldn’t have kept hearing Lambert’s vehement words in his mind.

“ Is something wrong?” Regis asked. He and Dettlaff had been talking about something, and it had allowed Geralt to slip into a thoughtful silence.

Geralt looked up from his plate. He considered the two men for a while, trying to decide whether to tell them about the offer.

“ If you don’t tell us, it’s going to keep bothering me horribly,” Regis added when he saw Geralt was hesitating. His tone was light, but Geralt knew by now how much Regis disliked being kept in the dark about anything.

“ Alright,” he sighed. “A former buddy from the army called a few days ago and asked if I was interested in going back.” It came out like something he needed to confess, despite being a comparatively innocent piece of news. Only after having said it, Geralt realized he had been feeling guilty about it.

Regis’ eyes widened. Dettlaff set down his utensils and leaned forward. “What would it entail?” he asked. Geralt could hear something hovering just behind the even tone.

“ A non-commissioned officer’s post at the local base. They’re setting up a recon unit and need instructors with field expertise,” he explained slowly.

“ And?” Regis asked quietly.

“ Didn’t get that far yet,” Geralt confessed. “I was just leaving for work when Roche called. He told me to call back when I’d decided.”

“ How quickly does he expect you to do that?” Dettlaff asked, and the hovering shadow was a touch closer. Geralt looked down, kicking himself for spoiling the evening.

“ I haven’t decided anything yet,” he said when the silence stretched.

The mood sobered after the discussion despite the topic getting dropped. They all went to bed, but the silence seemed to follow them there, settling between all three of them as they drifted off to sleep one by one.

***

Geralt was aware of Dettlaff’s alarm going off and the man kissing his brow as he got up. Geralt had a day off, and buried himself under the covers. He fell back asleep soon after.

When he woke up the second time, he was met by Regis’ dark eyes. The doctor was leaning on his elbow and watching Geralt as he stroked his hair. Geralt smiled at him, relieved to see Regis was apparently not too mad at him. He hesitated slightly before brushing his hand up Regis’ neck and burying it into his dark hair.

“ I’m sorry,” Geralt said. He didn’t exactly know what he was apologizing for. About the army news, at least; on some deeper level, also for having made things difficult by falling in love.

Regis frowned. He crawled closer and Geralt pressed his head into Regis’ neck. He smelled like sleep and his earthy aftershave. The scent tugged at Geralt’s heart, because every time he smelled it he kept wondering whether it would be the last time.

“ Please don’t apologize,” Regis finally whispered.

Geralt pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Can’t help feeling like crap,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to keep the army thing a secret. I’m just having trouble deciding.”

“ I know,” Regis sighed. “It’s quite clear you’re not enjoying your current occupation.” He hand came up and cupped Geralt’s cheek. “But it’s making me terribly apprehensive, for reasons which aren’t completely clear to even myself,” he added in a whisper.

“ It’s okay,” Geralt said with a wan smile. “I’m glad you’re telling me that.”

Regis nodded as he bit his lip. His dark eyes kept flicking to Geralt and away again.

Geralt made a move to kiss Regis, and the doctor stiffened for half a second before going slack. It was enough to drive a needle into some soft and raw place inside Geralt. He looked away and tried to swallow against a lump in his throat as he pulled back a bit.

“ I’m sorry,” he repeated, and even he could hear how miserable his voice was sounding.

Geralt heard Regis draw in a breath. It sounded almost like a sob. His eyes returned to Regis, and his chest ached. Regis’ hand was in front of his mouth and he kept blinking rapidly. When he finally met Geralt’s eye, he surged forward and wrapped his arms around him.

“ I should be apologizing,” Regis said in a fragile voice. “I’m feeling horrible for doing this to you. To Dettlaff.”

Geralt didn’t know what to say. The snippet of the conversation he’d overheard kept replaying in his head, but he didn’t know how to ask about it. He had no idea what kind of a secret Regis was guarding and why it was affecting them now.

Regis drew in a breath and exhaled against Geralt’s neck. “I keep getting so afraid, and I just want this thing between us to end, but then I look at you and feel like I never want to let you go.” The words were jumbled together, and Regis’ shoulders were so stiff they were shaking.

Geralt wrapped him into a hug and pressed a kiss to his hair.

“ I don’t want to leave,” he said quietly. “But if you ask me to, I will.”

Regis drew back. Geralt resisted the urge to just kiss him, and watched how a few tears finally spilled over and Regis bit his lip so hard he drew blood. Geralt reached a hand over and soothed his thumb at Regis’ bottom lip. The teeth released slowly, and then Regis pulled him down into a kiss.

Geralt couldn’t remember ever feeling so conflicted. He loved having Regis on top of him, moving against him with what bordered on reverence. He loved when Regis finally found his smile again, and how the breath was knocked out of him when Geralt rolled them over and took a hold of his cock. Geralt kept kissing Regis and stroking him so slowly the doctor was finally reduced to a panting, begging mess.

And it broke his heart. He didn’t get an answer, and he had long ago given up the power to pick up the pieces and leave by himself. Geralt brought Regis over the edge, and when the man arched off the bed and spilled into his hand, Geralt had to squeeze his own eyes shut because otherwise he might’ve cried. He wanted to spare Regis the pain of having to witness how desperately, utterly, and irrevocably in love Geralt was with him.

***

Interestingly enough, after emotional outbursts things seemed to settle down a bit. Geralt kept feeling apprehensive, but Dettlaff was apparently feeling calmer and Regis’ dark silences got rarer as days passed. After almost two weeks of no arguments or mentions of feelings, Geralt dared to believe things could settle down for the time being.

Roche had called Eskel and Lambert as well. He’d overheard Lambert yelling at his phone at full volume in the staff bathroom before apparently chucking the device into the toilet with full force. The captain was not amused when Lambert submitted a request for a new work phone.

Eskel had suddenly become silent and contemplative, and Geralt knew he needed some space to think about the call before he was ready to talk about it. He didn’t ask, and true to his knowledge, after a few days Eskel sought him out when they were both leaving work.

“ Hey, Wolf. You have a minute?”

The old nickname made Geralt smile. He paused by his car, rubbing his hands together in the freezing December air.

“ I’m guessing Roche called you and Lambert, too,” Eskel said.

“ Lambert drowned his phone into the toilet for that.”

Eskel grimaced. “I knew he wouldn’t take it well. He’s been grumpy ever since.”

“ He hasn’t been talking to me after I told him I got the call,” Geralt confessed.

“ Yeah, I was wondering if that was it. He’ll come around,” Eskel mused. “So, what’re you thinking?”

Geralt heaved a sigh. “Is it weird if I’m actually considering Roche’s proposal?”

Eskel laughed. “Fuck, no. We all know this job’s a dead end. It was okay when we started, but it’s gone to hell in the past five years.”

“ Did you and Triss talk about it?” Geralt asked. He knew Eskel had been going out with Yen’s friend for almost a year, and things were looking good for both of them.

“ She told me I should do what feels good. Obviously she isn’t too happy if it involves overseas deployment, but Roche told me it isn’t very likely,” Eskel said, shrugging. He was silent for a moment. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but I couldn’t help noticing you’re seeing someone. Are they okay with it?”

Geralt’s mind immediately filled with a panicked susurrus, until he mentally kicked himself and forced himself to pull his head out of his ass. Eskel had known him for all his life; of course he would notice. Eskel knew almost everything there was to know about Geralt.

“ Dunno yet,” Geralt muttered. “We talked about it, but it didn’t go too well.”

Eskel nodded, understanding dawning on his face. “Ah. You’re having some trouble, aren’t you?”

“ Yeah, and it’s making planning ahead a bit difficult at the moment,” Geralt confessed. A small part of the worry eased inside his chest at the admission. He hadn’t realized how much the situation had been bothering him.

“ I’m sorry,” Eskel said. “Is it about being together in public?”

Geralt remembered how he had come out of the closet over twenty years ago, and how Eskel had scoffed, amused, and told Geralt he had known for ages.

“ Not exactly,” Geralt sighed. He knew he could trust Eskel. They had seen so much shit during their lives, one weird relationship wouldn’t even register on their scale. “It’s a poly thing, I managed to stumble upon a couple of amazing people last summer.”

“ Ahh,” Eskel said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “I guessed it must’ve started around that time. You suddenly started reading books and getting texts.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, fighting down a blush.

Eskel sobered again. “So, are they serious about it?” he asked carefully.

Geralt nodded. He knew that wasn’t the problem.

Eskel frowned. “Again, I know it’s not my place… But you look pretty unhappy right now.”

Geralt felt affectionate warmth spread inside his chest at the blunt observation. It reminded him of the fact that he had people who cared about him; he only needed to reach out.

“ We’re having trouble, but I hope it’ll get sorted when we’re ready to talk about it,” he said. Then he pulled himself together. “But yes, I’m considering saying yes to Roche. I just need some more time to think it through.”

Eskel grinned. “It would be pretty awesome to continue working together, especially somewhere else than this place,” he said, indicating the building behind them.

***

Geralt been invited to Regis’ and Dettlaff’s place for the evening, but when he got there, only Dettlaff was at home.

“ Regis needed to go back to work,” Dettlaff explained. “They needed someone to fill in for the emergency on-call.”

“ Shame,” Geralt said. “He’s always grumpy when he has to work nights. I wouldn’t want to be the poor bastard who has to write down his dictations.”

Dettlaff laughed. “I know. Are you hungry? I was thinking of making something.”

“ I could eat,” Geralt said. “I’m just going to wash my hands, I’ll come and help you in the kitchen.”

“ We’ll see about that,” Dettlaff muttered when he turned heel and vanished from the foyer.

Geralt was deep in thought as he scrubbed his hands, but right when he was drying them off, something caught his eye.

It was a pill bottle on the counter. By the looks of it, maybe half of the pills had been taken. That wasn’t what made something rush inside Geralt. No, what suddenly unsettled him was the fact that he recognized the brand. It was the very same brand of antidepressants a doctor had prescribed Ciri with many years ago.

Without thinking, Geralt picked up the bottle and looked at the familiar name and logo. Only when he saw the name written on the prescription tag did he realize what the hell he was doing.

Geralt almost dropped the bottle, and then carefully put it back. He backed away from it slowly and leaned on a wall, rubbing his face.

It didn’t bother him that Dettlaff was using medicine to treat something. The pills had clearly been prescribed to him, and there really wasn’t any other use for them but to treat mental health problems.

What was bothering Geralt was the fact that he suddenly realized he had effectively spilled his whole past to Regis and Dettlaff, and he still didn’t know that much about either of them.

Geralt knew he was useless when it came to hiding his emotions. People who knew him well could always tell when something was bothering him, or when he was trying to lie. Dettlaff was no exception. He took one look at Geralt’s face and moved to him, taking his hands.

“ What’s wrong? Is it Ciri?” he asked, looking worried.

Geralt shook his head numbly. He knew he had to ask, but how the hell could he say he had been snooping around their bathroom?

Dettlaff frowned. “Did something happen?”

Geralt swallowed thickly and then thought, fuck it. He was tired of things being so difficult.

“ I didn’t mean to snoop, but I couldn’t help noticing your pills on the counter top,” he said. He tried to keep his voice gentle and kind, but Dettlaff immediately stiffened up and dropped his hands as if he had gotten burnt. He made half a turn and crossed his arms, and suddenly looked a lot younger.

“ I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten them there,” he said in a thick voice.

Geralt took a tentative step towards him, but Dettlaff looked like he was ready to bolt.

“ It’s okay,” Geralt said. “I know people sometimes need meds to cope with stuff.” He rubbed his neck. “I was on sleeping pills for years after I got discharged. It’s no big deal.”

Dettlaff turned to look at Geralt. He looked angry, but underneath it lurked something more fragile. His lips were pressed together.

“ You’re wrong,” he finally said. “It’s not the same thing.”

“ Fuck it is,” Geralt said, taking another step closer. “People have trouble and then they get help for that. Hell, you’re practically married to a doctor, you should know.”

Dettlaff looked away, pulling in on himself like a frightened child. Geralt reached for him and laid one hand on his shoulder. The muscles under his palm were so tight they were trembling.

“ Hey,” Geralt said, turning Dettlaff’s head gently back towards himself. “You know what I’ve done, and for heaven knows what reason didn’t judge me for it. Do you honestly think I’d think less of you because you need antidepressants?”

Dettlaff seemed to sag under the weight of his gaze. He allowed himself to be pulled into a hug.

“ It’s not just that,” he mumbled into Geralt’s shoulder. “There’s a lot more you don’t know yet.”

“ So tell me?” Geralt said, squeezing him a bit tighter.

Dettlaff drew back and looked at Geralt. He eyes were pained an indecisive. Geralt kissed him lightly.

“ I remember someone telling me that anything can be said,” he reminded Dettlaff with a slow smile. The man nodded and looked down.

“ Alright.”

They ended up on the sofa, Dettlaff leaning on Geralt’s chest. Geralt had arranged them that way; he remembered from the past instances when Ciri had been troubled and unable to articulate what had been upsetting her, he had hugged her close and held her, and something about not having to look him in the eye had often worked the words loose.

Dettlaff played with Geralt’s hands for a while, searching for words. Geralt let him be, breathing steadily and trying to offer the man an anchor. He knew digging up past hurts wasn’t easy.

“ Have you ever wondered about our surnames?” Dettlaff finally begun.

Geralt thought about it and realized he had never asked why Dettlaff’s name had a distinct foreign echo, or why Regis preferred to be called by something else than his first name.

“ No. Should I?” Geralt asked. Dettlaff give a mirthless chuckle.

“ You’re extraordinary because you have never tried to pry.” He fell silent for a while. “Regis has his own reasons why he isn’t going by Emiel any longer, and it’s not my place to divulge them. But my family name is something that several people recognize.”

Geralt thought about it, and then he could tell he had heard the name van der Eretein somewhere.

Dettlaff sighed. “My family is, first of all, directly descended of the former royal family. Secondly, van der Ereteins are a notably ruthless and powerful family dynasty in the international trade of arms.”

It clicked. Geralt was thrown back many years, all the way back to when he had still known who Emhyr var Emreis was; he remembered a conversation they'd had about the military business, and how Emhyr had spat out the name “van der Eretein” like it was something filthy and despicable.

“ My family expects every single one of us to keep up the family name and honor. My siblings and I were cherished, but only as long as we behaved exactly as was expected of us.” A short silence followed, and then Dettlaff drew in a breath. “I didn’t wish to assimilate. I kept rebelling throughout my teenage years, despite not even knowing why. And when I finally became of age, I all but ran away.”

“ I’m sorry,” Geralt said, kissing Dettlaff’s hair.

“ I had always been prone to depressive episodes, and my mother insisted they were due to my childish behavior. After I moved away and started my studies at a university, they quickly worsened; there were several instances when I couldn’t even leave my apartment for weeks at a time.

“ Then, when I was twenty three, I met a woman during one of my better patches. Her name was Rhena, and I fell in love with her instantly. We moved in together, and for a while I felt like maybe life could work itself out. I was able to continue my studies, and it felt like all my prayers had been answered.”

Geralt could feel the sadness emanating from Dettlaff. Dettlaff turned his head slightly to look at him, managing a small, miserable smile. “It all went to hell after one and a half years. My depression had not been magically cured by falling obsessively in love. Rhena suffered from my rapidly changing moods. She tried to help me, but it was quickly becoming clear her methods were nothing anyone sensible would recommend; I saw too late that the saying about birds of a feather flocking together is indeed true.

“ Rhena refused to talk about her past even more vehemently than I did, but I started to see she had some deep and unhealed wounds of her own. She became abusive when I couldn’t pick myself up, and in the process we managed to bring out the worst in each other. I won’t go into details, but in the end I lost my temper. We split up after that.”

The silence that fell was so heavy Geralt felt it physically stifle them both. He knew they had not reached the end of the tale yet, but he didn’t dare to say anything. He listened to Dettlaff’s steady breaths, knowing the man was trying to ground himself.

“ I let my life collapse. I managed to hang on a few months, but three weeks before my twenty fifth birthday I tried to kill myself.” Dettlaff spoke the words with great care, his whole body perfectly still; it was as if he was thinking that if he just managed to stay unmoving, he wouldn’t spill over.

Geralt felt the breath go out of him. He hugged Dettlaff closer and pressed his nose into his black hair.

“ I’m so sorry,” he said. He didn’t know what else he could say.

Dettlaff wiped his eyes and squeezed Geralt’s hand. He sniffed and swallowed before continuing.

“ Needless to say, I botched it. I woke up in a hospital, and by some miracle they had managed to get a hold the only relative who had became as alienated from the core of the family as I had. My aunt took me in after I was released.

“ During the next years I slowly rebuilt my life from the ground-up. I managed to get accepted back into the university, and my studies became the one thing that kept me from slipping. Almost six years passed uneventfully, and I was just finishing my doctorate when things shifted again.”

Geralt chuckled, managing a watery smile. “You met Regis.”

“ So I did,” Dettlaff said, laughing weakly. “It was so strange. He was absolutely nothing like Rhena; shy, reserved, soft-spoken. I had not allowed myself to even consider relationships for several years, and then suddenly I could tell I had went and fallen in love with him.”

Geralt closed his eyes, imagining it. He could see now why Regis had once told him their relationship had taken a long time to really begin; Geralt had assumed it had been mainly because of Regis’ shyness, but now he could tell Dettlaff’s personal confusion must’ve played a role, too.

“ Against my better knowledge, I decided to take a risk,” Dettlaff said. “I simply couldn’t let him slip away from me. I had my hands full with the PhD, and I still kept trying to draw Regis out of his shell. At first, he wouldn’t even talk to me about anything that wasn’t work-related.”

“ I’m still finding it hard to imagine Regis being shy,” Geralt said, smiling fondly.

Dettlaff laughed. “After three months I was considering giving up; I was fairly sure I was annoying him. And then he suddenly appeared into my office the day before I was due to present my thesis publicly. He wished me luck, and we started talking about things. I got three hours of sleep because we lost the track of time, and after the ceremony Regis came to congratulate me. He drew me aside and after looking like he wanted to bolt, he kissed me.” Dettlaff ducked his head, clearly swept up on memories. “I had never dared to imagine being that happy.”

Geralt turned his head so he managed to kiss Dettlaff’s cheek. The man pressed closer, sighing.

“ My family was not thrilled when they found out I had decided to pursue education in a field they deemed nonsensical and frankly worthless. My mother pressured me to change my plans on several occasions during the years, but her sister, the aunt who had taken me under her wing, managed to keep her off my back. Sadly, she died shortly after I received my doctorate,” Dettlaff continued. His voice constrained with grief, and Geralt’s stomach dropped. How much had Dettlaff had to go through?

“ She left me some money and her apartment in her will, and it saved me when my family found out I was dating Regis. You see, they are also religious when it suits their personal agenda. Their son being a useless humanist they could tolerate, pass it off as something young people did. But a son of the van der Eretein family being openly in a relationship with a man? That went too far.”

Dettlaff leaned back, and Geralt tucked his head on his shoulder, pressing their cheeks together. He took Dettlaff’s hands into his own.

“ My family disowned me. I haven’t heard from them in almost seven years,” Dettlaff finished. He closed his eyes. His body had slowly relaxed under the strain of sadness, and he was now lying limply in Geralt’s lap.

Geralt stayed silent for a while, absorbing the information. He didn’t any longer wonder why Dettlaff had been reluctant to tell him; that kind of a past would leave a person scarred, and those chasms would keep aching for a long time.

“ Thank you for telling me. I know it couldn’t have been easy,” he finally said.

Dettlaff shook his head. “No, but at the moment I’m managing. I still use medication, because the depression has a tendency to creep back if I go off them.”

“ You ever been to therapy?” Geralt asked.

“ I tried it,” Dettlaff said as he opened his eyes. “But I couldn’t find a therapist who I could’ve trusted enough. So I gave it up.”

Geralt bit his lip. “But… Maybe you should try again? I know it’s not my place to say, but I think you’re still hurting.”

Dettlaff pulled off from his lap and sat up, hunched over. He shook his head. “I don’t want to discuss it,” he said quietly. His hands were clasped together, a gesture Geralt associated with the man trying to maintain a veneer of composure.

“ But-” Geralt begun, but Dettlaff shook his head again, more harshly.

“ No.” His face seemed to close off.

Geralt sighed and slid his hand on Dettlaff’s knee. They stayed there for a long time.

***

Geralt woke up late. He hadn’t set an alarm, because he knew he’d be working late that day. As he slowly dragged himself out of the bed, the conversation from yesterday kept playing in his head.

He was glad Dettlaff had told him, because it spoke volumes of how much the man trusted Geralt. You didn’t go around spilling your ugly past to people you didn’t care about. At the same time Geralt could tell Dettlaff was doing just what he had said, he was managing. His troubles were still there, apparently unaddressed.

He dressed and stretched before walking out of the bedroom. He had half a thought to broach the topic again later on, when agitated words from the kitchen stopped him on his tracks.

“ You told him.” Regis’ voice was strained, as if he was holding himself back. Geralt pictured him leaning on the counter, hands crossed and face shut off.

“ Yes, and I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it,” Dettlaff answered. A chair creaked as he leaned back. “I know he’s trustworthy.”

“ That is not what I meant.”

“ What is it then?” Geralt heard the chair creak again.

There was a long silence, and then someone, presumably Regis, walked to the window. Geralt knew where he was standing, because one of the floor boards next to the wall groaned when you stepped on it.

“ You didn’t tell me until we had known each other for almost two years,” Regis said very quietly, and Geralt felt his insides go cold at how much emotion there was packed into that single sentence. The chair thumped against something as Dettlaff got to his feet and went to Regis.  


“ It’s not that, Regis,” Dettlaff said. His voice was alarmed. “I’m not choosing him over you.”

Regis’ voice was muffled. “I’m afraid you’ll leave. That you’ll both leave.”

“ Regis, no-”

Geralt couldn’t take it any longer. He stepped into the kitchen, making Dettlaff and Regis jump, both of them watching him with wide, guilty eyes.

Geralt rubbed his forehead. “Sorry for eavesdropping,” he said. “We can’t go on like this.”

Dettlaff opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His clear eyes kept flicking between Geralt and Regis.

Geralt shrugged. “I’m gonna leave now, and you guys are going to talk about what you want to do,” he continued. His heart gave a violent tug when it caught up with what was coming to pass. Geralt mentally stepped on the rebelling organ. He felt worse than when Yen had told him it was over. Much worse.

“ I’m not gonna disappear, but I can’t live with myself if I mess up your relationship. I told you that,” he finally said. When he got no answer, he turned away and closed the kitchen door behind himself.

By the time he was unlocking his car and hoping the battery hadn’t died during the night, Geralt realized he’d been hoping someone would have run after him. At first he felt pathetic for hoping that, but it drowned under an enormous wave when the realization set in. Neither of them had come.

He managed to fight back the tears until he made it home, and then he collapsed into the shower floor. He let water run over himself until it turned freezing cold, and it felt like all the lights had been put out.

***

The next week passed in a blur. The time Geralt didn’t spend at work, he used at the garage. He offered to change the winter tires to a dozen people at the office, and that alone kept him sufficiently busy. His own car needed some small fixes before the winter, too, so Geralt tried to ignore the gaping hole inside his chest and focus his attention elsewhere.

Sleep had started to elude him again. It was a recurring problem; whenever the stress got too big, insomnia returned. First, he couldn’t fall asleep, and then when he did, he kept waking up. He spent way too many hours laying on his side, curled under the duvet, and being so sad it would’ve been comical if it wasn’t so crushing.

He was suddenly seeing every detail that had improved when Regis and Dettlaff had become regular features in his life. His free time, scarce as it was, suddenly felt like something he had no good use for. His flat ceased to feel like a safe place, because in the short while the three of them had been together, home had started to mean something else. Geralt tried to escape the depressing understanding by picking up some more hours at work, but ultimately it only served to worsen his mood.

Eskel, of course, noticed right away something had gone wrong. He didn’t ask, of which Geralt was desperately thankful. Even Lambert picked up on his moroseness, because the younger man started talking to him again. It was the usual array of jibes and taunts, interspersed with prying whether Geralt had decided what he was going to do about Roche’s request.

After one week Geralt realized he might be in for a long wait while Regis and Dettlaff worked their shit out. He couldn’t put his whole life on hold until they decided, because even then the answer was very likely to be a no. So on Friday afternoon Geralt picked up his phone and dialed Roche’s number.

“ Okay man, you win. I’ll come back.”

Eskel, who had agreed before Geralt did, came to hand in his resignation with him. It was good he did, because their captain looked first like she might cry, and then decided to get angry instead. Geralt understood her reaction perfectly well; she was losing two of her best cops right when the force was already worn thin.

He and Eskel ended up at the garage after that, drinking beer and poking fun at Eskel’s car. When Geralt’s phone rang and he saw it was Ciri, he felt the first brush of genuine joy in several days.

“ Oh, so you are alive,” she said as a greeting.

“ Sorry. Life’s been crazy,” Geralt said and smiled.

“ Are you at the garage? Can I come by?”

“ Sure.”

Ciri pulled by the door ten minutes later, took one look at Geralt’s face, and threw her thin arms around his neck.

“ I was afraid you’d broken up when you stopped calling. You look exactly the same as when Yen left,” she said, hugging him tightly.

Geralt cleared his throat, not letting her go. “Sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“ Nah,” Ciri said when she finally pulled back and pushed past him into the garage. “You sort out your head a bit differently than normal people. Hi, Eskel.”

“ Hiya, brat. How’s life?” Eskel said when he came around the car to hug Ciri.

“ It’s okay,” she said as she shrugged off her winter coat. “I’m working at the university library during the holidays. You?”

Eskel glanced at Geralt, who shrugged and nodded.

“ Well, now that you asked… I’m going back to the army,” Eskel said as he sat down on the workbench and picked up his beer.

Ciri’s eyes widened. A wide grin spread on her face. “Really? Where? What will you do?” She whirled around, pointing at Geralt. “Please tell me you’re going too.”

Geralt chuckled. “Yes, I am.”

Ciri squealed with joy and hugged him again. She was beaming.

“ I’ve watched you looking so fed up with the police work for years. Congrats!”

“ You’re the first person to think it’s a good idea,” Eskel laughed.

“ Ooh, yeah, what’s Triss saying?” Ciri asked as she dug through Geralt’s fridge and then popped open a beer of her own. She sat down on the abused sofa and looked at Eskel with a curious expression.

Eskel spread his hands. “She keeps being afraid we’ll get deployed under some shady excuse, mostly. I keep telling her it’s an NCO job at the local base, and an instructor one to boot, but what can you say? She’s a civilian, it’s natural to be afraid.”

Ciri kept pestering Eskel about his life until the man announced he was supposed to pick up Triss from an evening class she was teaching and made a tactical retreat into the freezing cold. Geralt watched him go and felt a sudden wave of resilient joy; he was glad Eskel was going to be working with him at the base. It would be easier with a familiar face around.

Ciri turned her green eyes to him as he joined her on the sofa. She bit her lip.

“ I’m sorry I forced you to tell me about your relationship over the phone,” she said after twisting her hands for a while.

Geralt huffed, amused. “That old thing? Don’t worry.”

“ But I kept worrying whether that was the reason you broke up,” she said, looking down and pursing her lips. “I should’ve known it’s not fair to force you to admit it, but I had just broken up and wasn’t thinking very sensibly.”

“ Ciri, it’s alright. It wasn’t the reason we broke up,” Geralt said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned on him, a familiar light weight against his side.

“ Who was he?” she asked shyly.

Geralt sighed, trying to make up his mind. Finally he gave up. What did it matter, anyway?

“ Wanna hear something crazy?” he said quietly. “It wasn’t just one guy.”

He saw Ciri look at him with wide eyes and then her face slipped into an amused smile. “A couple? The surprises just keep on coming.” Her voice was light, but Geralt knew her too well. She’d need some time to process the revelation.

“ Yep. But right now we’re kind of… taking a break.”

“ I’m sorry.”

“ Me, too.”

***

“ Fuck. I had managed to forget how much crap you’re supposed to sign up as your own,” Geralt groaned as he heaved the heavy sack down and wiped his forehead.

“ Tell me about it,” Eskel muttered. “This our dressing room?”

“ Yeah. Roche said we’d get our own.”

They took in the bleak room with a small window. It only had a few lockers, metal closets and benches, and a tiny shower tucked into the corner.

“ Yeah, looks like the army hasn’t hired any interior designers while we were away,” Eskel laughed as he moved to the lockers and claimed the better ones with a challenging look. Geralt rolled his eyes and ignored the nonverbal jab.

They had spent the previous day signing a mountain of paperwork, submitting to a full physical, and finally getting keys and passes to the building. Today had included visits to the various storage buildings and then haggling with tired and overworked quartermasters so that they wouldn’t get handed the crappiest equipment available.

It was weird after so many years, and at the same time Geralt felt like he was coming home. He had missed some things about army, and it was comforting to see not that much had changed during sixteen years.

As he started stuffing the fatigues, boots, the carrying system, the helmet and its camo covers and other assorted crap into his locker, Geralt fell back into old system of organizing his stuff. It had never been textbook, but he had adopted it during one of the many overseas deployments and then it had stuck. As he folded the clothes perfunctorily, he let his mind wander.

There hadn’t been a single word from either Regis or Dettlaff. It had been almost two weeks already, and he was getting antsy. The more time passed, the worse the crawling fear got. Geralt missed them so much he felt like his chest would cave in whenever he allowed himself to think about them. He still wasn’t sleeping well.

Only when Eskel tapped him on the shoulder did Geralt realize he had been talking.

“ Earth to Geralt,” the man said.

“ Sorry. What?” Geralt mentally closed a door. The room where he was storing the sad bits had apparently busted the light bulb, because it was dark as hell.

“ We’re supposed to meet the rest of the staff in ten minutes.”

“ Fuck. Yeah,” Geralt said. He chucked his jeans and hoodie, beginning to pull on the familiar, sturdy pants. As he laced up the boots, he could tell all the materials were a lot better than what they’d been a decade ago. They still had the familiar patterns and cuts, but they no longer felt like something no normal, sane person would ever wear out of their own free will.

Geralt tried to attach the name tag and the insignia approximately straight, and having failed several times, let them be. It was weird to have his name and rank on display. It had been one of the curiosities of their former unit; nobody’s rank or name had been visible at any time.

He had a suspicion a lot of things were going to be different.

When Geralt got home, he noticed he had an unanswered message. His heart jumped funnily when he noticed it was from Dettlaff.

**_Dettlaff:_ ** _ Hi. Sorry for the long radio silence. Are you free tonight? We need to talk. I miss you. We both do. _

Geralt swallowed as he sat down on his bed. He had managed to maintain some semblance of sanity during the two weeks he had been left hanging, but now his heart was hammering in his chest, and he was feeling dizzy.

**_Geralt:_ ** _ I’m free, do you want me to come over? I miss you too. _

When he locked his car doors in front of the familiar building, Geralt noticed he was feeling dead-nervous. He remembered vaguely how he had felt when he had come here to confess he had tripped over and fallen in love. In a way it reminded him of the present moment; both were tainted by a soul-crushing worry and a heart that was hurting so much it was ridiculous.

Regis opened the door. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was even more disheveled than usual. But he was smiling, and when Geralt closed the door, the doctor hugged him close, and Geralt had to bite his lip hard to avoid breaking down completely. Regis squeezed him tightly, holding him for a long time, making some of the hurt go away. When he let go, Geralt saw Dettlaff was watching them with a soft, broken smile.

“ Hi,” Geralt managed to choke out as Dettlaff pressed against him. Geralt’s throat felt hot and painful, and when Dettlaff buried his face into his neck he made a small, sad, and relieved sound.

Gods, it had been two weeks of no sleep. Two weeks of worrying he’d never get to bury his hands into their hair, press them against a door and kiss them until neither could remember their name. And two weeks of wondering whether he’d made a mistake when he had not simply told them how much he loved them both.

And now all three of them were pressed close together, and Geralt still didn’t dare to hope despite knowing his heart didn’t stand a chance. He had lost this particular game, and as long as he’d be allowed to keep being in love it didn’t even matter.

“ Oh dear, your hair,” Regis said when they finally pulled apart a little. “I take it the army didn’t allow you to keep like it was.” He had a small smile on his face.

Geralt shook his head. Having short hair was weird after years of wearing it long, but he’d get used to it. Regis ran his fingers carefully through it, and it felt like Geralt had become starved for the sensation; the touch made his heart rate slow and reached the part that had kept hurting for all the while.

“ You said you wanted to talk,” Geralt reminded them before they got too lost in the moment. He still couldn’t dare to hope he’d be allowed to come back.

Dettlaff opened his mouth, and the doorbell rang.

Regis looked puzzled, but Geralt saw Dettlaff suddenly going very pale.

“ What is it?” he asked. Regis turned around, and seeing his partner’s face, stepped closer.

“ Dettlaff?” he asked.

Dettlaff tried to swallow several times, and it seemed to take him an enormous effort to simply regain his ability to speak. Geralt reached out for his hand, and the man gripped it so tightly it hurt.

“ My brother sent me a message a few days ago,” Dettlaff whispered. “He said he needed to come see me.”

“ What?” Regis yelped. “You didn’t say anything!”

“ I told him I didn’t wish to meet him,” Dettlaff said. His eyes were pained. “I didn’t think he knew where we lived. I didn’t think he’d-”

The doorbell rang again, longer this time.

Geralt brought up his hand and turned Dettlaff’s face towards himself and away from the door.

“ Do you want me to tell him to go away?”

Regis glanced at him, but Dettlaff shook his head. He seemed to regain some composure. “No. I need to see what he wants.”

Dettlaff stepped away and to the door. Geralt exchanged a worried look with Regis. Neither of them moved from the spot when Dettlaff opened the door.

A man was standing there, his hand up to press the bell a third time. Geralt saw right away he and Dettlaff were siblings. The man was shorter than Dettlaff, but he had the same black, curly hair and handsome features. He looked about five years older than Dettlaff.

“ Brother,” he said, looking Dettlaff up and down. His voice was deep and slow. “Forgive me for intruding, but we need to talk.”

The man stepped past Dettlaff without waiting for an answer and pulled the door closed. He kept his posture stiff, and when his eyes found Geralt and Regis, standing frozen in the foyer, they narrowed.

“ Emiel,” the man said, nodding to Regis. He ignored Geralt.

Geralt felt Regis stiffen.

Dettlaff turned to face his brother. “I told you not to come, Eryk” he said. Geralt had never heard him sound like that, equal parts angry and scared.

“ But when have I ever listened to you?” Eryk van der Eretein swept his eyes up and down Dettlaff’s rigid form. “Really. You need to get a grip.” He crossed his arms, but there wasn’t a hint of defensiveness in the gesture. He seemed to assert his upper hand.

“ Mother died a week ago,” Eryk said in a threatening tone after a short pause.

Dettlaff closed his eyes and a flash of pain crossed his face, but when he opened his eyes again, there was more anger than sorrow in them.

“And why should I care? You know it was her who disowned me.”

“ Precisely.” Eryk smiled coldly. “Now that her influence is over and done with, we could take you back.”

“ What-” Dettlaff choked, taking half a step back. His carefully crafted composure cracked like dry ice.

Eryk nodded. He seemed satisfied having managed to throw Dettlaff off-balance so thoroughly. “We talked about it. We’re prepared to offer you one last chance to redeem yourself.”

Before any of them could react to the words, Regis stormed to Eryk. His face was twisted into a grimace; Geralt had never even imagined Regis could look so angry.

“ How dare you?” the doctor spat. “You abandoned him when he needed you the most, and now you have the gall to come into our home-”

“ Stand down, Emiel” Eryk cut in. He hardly seemed to acknowledge Regis. “If you interrupt, I’ll make sure your life will go down in flames.”

Regis blinked like he had been slapped. Dettlaff gripped his shoulders and pulled him back.

“ Why the hell would I ever even consider coming back?” Dettlaff asked. Geralt saw he was gripping Regis’ shoulder hard to avoid showing how badly his hands were shaking.

Eryk sneered at his brother. “Let’s face it. Your life isn’t worth much as it is. We’ve been keeping an eye of you, o’ brother dearest.” He went silent, letting the insult sink in, and then went on. “We both know you’re capable of much more than playing around at the university.”

“ Shut up,” Dettlaff snarled.

Eryk ignored him. He looked around, mockingly making a show of taking in his surroundings before fixing his dead eyes back on Dettlaff. “You’re not getting any younger, Dettlaff. It’s time to stop pretending. Your place is in the family.”

“ My place is right here, and you need to leave,” Dettlaff shot back. He was getting angry, but not in a useful, calculating way; his face was pale, but red spots were burning high on his cheeks. He was coiled like a spring. Geralt saw Regis cast a glance at him.

Eryk smiled, faux-sweet and demeaning. “Here? Playing house with  _ him _ , pretending like the best you can do is give in to your unnatural urges-”

It happened very fast. Geralt saw the words hit home, Dettlaff’s face contorting with raw pain, and then he was aware of himself moving. He grabbed hold of Eryk van der Eretein’s coat and slammed him against the door, hard.

“ You have gone too far,” Geralt said in a deathly quiet voice. He pressed harder, lifting the man up until he was on his toes and scrabbling for balance. The calm veneer had cracked, and Eryk was looking at Geralt like he had been suddenly attacked by a wild animal.

Geralt felt like that, savage and so angry his bones seemed to be on fire with it.

“ You will leave now, and you won’t come back,” Geralt continued after allowing the man struggle for a short while. “Because if you do, I’ll personally make sure you’ll regret it the rest of your miserable fucking life.”

He let Eryk go, and the man hurried to unlock the door. He fled through and turned around.

“ Fine company you’re keeping, dear brother. Brutes and fags,” Eryk growled before slamming the door closed.

The silence seemed to echo for a long while. Geralt drew in several deep breaths as he leaned his hand on the door. When he finally turned around, he saw both Regis and Dettlaff staring at him like they had never seen him before.

_ They have never seen that side of me _ , Geralt understood. They had never seen him slip into that role; they had gotten to know him only well after he had managed to leave most of it behind.

Geralt opened his mouth, but Dettlaff beat him to it.

“ You shouldn’t have done that.”

Geralt stared at him. Dettlaff was looking right back, and his face was contorted with disbelieving anger. “You have no right to mess with my personal life.” His voice was shaking.

Geralt took a step back, and his back hit the wall. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. Something about the way Dettlaff kept staring at him undid him and caused all fight to leak out of him. His expression was so full of anger, and it was nothing like Geralt had ever seen before on his perpetually calm face.

“ I wanted to help,” Geralt added, trying to find the words that would make it right. “I know I shouldn’t have behaved like that, but he kept-”

“ No. I don’t want to hear that,” Dettlaff interrupted. He turned away. His wrapped his arms around himself, as if to hold himself in one piece.

Geralt, at a loss of words, turned to look at Regis. He almost recoiled when he saw the doctor staring at him like he was something dangerous.

“ You need to leave now,” Regis said in a low voice. His eyes were so hard they looked depthless.

The next thing Geralt knew, he was trying to unlock the garage doors with hands that shook so badly he was having trouble holding the keys. He tried to breathe slowly, but his lungs drew in gasps of freezing air, making his chest burn. Geralt dropped the keys and slumped down, leaning his back on the door. A soft, pained noise escaped his mouth as he started to accept the events of the past hour had not been a vivid nightmare.

Geralt pressed his fingers into his eye sockets and exhaled. He was shaking, both from the cold and from the creeping horror that stemmed from realizing he’d fucked up. In his head, Geralt kept seeing Dettlaff’s angry face and hearing Regis telling him over and over again to leave. Each time his mind replayed it, Geralt felt more and more certain he would throw up.

He clambered back up and dug out his phone. He had half a mind of calling either of them to explain and apologize, but then he saw himself shoving Eryk against a wall like some brainless idiot, and he threw the phone as hard as he could against the ground. Pieces of plastic and glass clattered into the darkness, and with them went every message and photo he had of his time with Regis and Dettlaff.

When it sunk in, he finally broke down.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! <33
> 
> This chapter discusses the aforementioned suicide attempt and some past drug use (not very graphically.)
> 
> My beta [Dordean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dordean/pseuds/Dordean) is the best. <3 Go read Blood Ties, because Ciri.

**II**

“ I never believed I’d need to write the letters again,” Eskel said as he finished scribbling and slid the last page into an envelope. He looked over to Geralt. His friend had been writing longer than he was, but the process had been halted often, with Geralt staring into the distance for a long while before resuming.

When Geralt finished, he let out a sigh and slid the papers into their respective envelopes. He wrote down the names and then put tape over them, hiding them from view. When he finally met Eskel’s eye, he smiled dryly.

“ Me neither. Are you sure we can’t just say fuck this and run away?”

Eskel laughed without any humor. “Don’t think so. They know where we live.”

Geralt chuckled and looked at the envelopes. He had five of them spread out in front of him. Eskel looked down at his own, the four varying in thickness but otherwise identical to each other. He, too, had hid the names from view. They couldn’t be revealed yet.

“ When is Lambert getting here?” Geralt asked, and Eskel shook his head to clear it. No need to become morose.

“ In ten minutes. We should go. You know how he is if he has to wait.”

Geralt smiled. “Especially since he’s about to get the duty he swore he’d never accept.”

Sure enough. When Lambert saw the letters he let out an impressive string of swearwords and told both of them to go fuck themselves. Then he dragged them close and hugged them, all the while telling how much he hated them. When they finally settled down, several people were staring at them. They ignored them all.

“ What the fuck,” Lambert grumbled. He took a sip of the canteen coffee and made a face. “Just as disgusting as I remember. Are you sure you can’t pull out?”

Eskel shook his head. “Order’s an order. You know how it is.”

“ Shit,” Lambert muttered. He downed the rest of his coffee, crossed his arms and looked around the canteen with a scowl. “Where are you shipped off to?”

“ Classified,” Geralt said. Lambert mouthed the word and blew a raspberry at him.

“ Whatever.”

“ We need you to take the letters,” Geralt continued.

Lambert leaned back and rolled his eyes. “I guessed that’s why you called me here.”

“ We’re flying out tomorrow morning,” Eskel nodded. “And it’s good to see a familiar face before going.”

“ How’s Triss handling this?” Lambert asked, suddenly serious and no longer making faces.

Eskel looked down at his coffee. “She’s… coping. She doesn’t really know what to expect.”

“ And Ciri?” Lambert turned to Geralt.

Geralt shrugged. “She doesn’t know everything about my past, but of course she’s worried.” He rubbed his face. Eskel saw he still had those dark circles under his eyes. They’d been there ever since December. “It’s only four months, anyway.”

“ Yeah, keep believing that,” Lambert muttered as he shifted on his seat, but without any heat. Eskel knew Lambert well, and he saw the surroundings and the atmosphere of goodbyes was getting to him.

“ The same thing as last time,” Eskel said as he handed over his letters.

“ I know. I’m not demented yet.”

“ No, but you’ve only ever handed over your own letters to someone else,” Geralt sniped back, smiling wryly. “So no peeking under the tape labels unless-”

“ Fuck you, I’ll rip them all open and read your deepest secrets the moment you’re off the ground,” Lambert cut in as he swiped the letters up and shoved them in his bag. It came off as a joke, but Eskel could tell the man couldn’t bear hearing the words said aloud.

Unless there are certain, confirmed news of a death. Only then will the letters be delivered. Personally and one by one.

***

Dettlaff had always been a light sleeper. When he lived at home, he used to wake up to every small noise his siblings or the house made. Then he got older, and as he started having partners he discovered the difficulty translated over and got worse; he made a habit of escaping his lovers’ beds after they fell asleep, because laying awake next to someone who was sleeping was infinitely worse than sleeping badly and alone.

Rhena hated him sneaking out of the bed. She liked to fall asleep with Dettlaff holding her, and how could he say no to that? He got used to listening to her shallow breaths and the small noises she made when she dreamed, all the while trying to will his mind to shut down. It was like herding cats.

Insomnia never helped with the depression. Mostly it made things worse, especially when money became tight enough and he couldn’t afford his regular medication anymore.. By the time he and Rhena were almost over, Dettlaff had accepted his life was just like that, as if viewed through several hazy layers, perpetually confusing and gloomy.

And in a way the wish to die had been born from that bottomless, echoing exhaustion; he had often toyed with the idea, but only after Rhena left after calling him a monster did he seriously start wishing he could just go to sleep and never wake up. That wish had started festering, and the twisted hope had taken over his brain, until all he could think about was the potential of giving in to it.

Opening gritty eyes in an unfamiliar hospital with strange faces hovering above him and a tube going down his nose made Dettlaff feel, at first, ashamed of failing to take himself out. Later, when aunt Janny rushed in and hugged him, telling him it was going to be alright, Dettlaff allowed himself to crumble. Janny had calmly demanded help for him until it had been offered, and little by little Dettlaff had been forced to start peeling off scar tissue. It had almost driven him into another attempt, but by then he was on proper medication and under strict surveillance. With enough time, the urge passed.

Now he was not crumbling. Dettlaff lied on his side, eyes open and watching Regis dream. He knew it was past two in the morning, but sleep had been hard to reach recently.

Regis slept restlessly, like he often did when he was troubled. Dettlaff watched his eyes flicker this way and that under the lids, and he wondered what dreams Regis was seeing. He carefully reached a hand and laid it against Regis’ chest, feeling the steady, slow pulse. Regis had kicked off the covers, and his skin felt cool under the fingertips.

Dettlaff closed his eyes, once more sending a wordless plea to whatever force it was that decided who got to slumber. He was tired, and tomorrow he would need to discuss the technicalities of presenting a thesis with the oldest group of the hopeful ones. It required focus and wits, both of which he found himself lacking these days.

His depression was creeping back. He recognized the first signs pretty well by now; first he lost sleep, then his appetite, and the last thing to go would be the motivation to work. Usually by now he would have visited his psychiatrist and explained he needed the sleeping pills again; dodged half an hour’s worth of queries about his mental well-being and avoided the question of therapy altogether. Now Dettlaff had just kept observing the disorder spread its reach like an oily substance covering his body. He knew it wasn’t wise or mature, but doing anything else felt like too much of an effort.

Regis hadn’t noticed yet, which in itself told Dettlaff his partner wasn’t faring much better himself. Dettlaff had often caught Regis simply staring into nothingness when he was supposed to be doing reading or grading homework for his classes. He’d snap out of his glum reverie when touched or spoken to, and then just stare at Dettlaff like he was lost inside his head. Like they had both lost something, and each of them kept waiting for it to come back.

No, not something. Someone.

Dettlaff curled in on himself when his thoughts turned into the familiar direction. He knew he wouldn’t sleep this night.

***

“ _ This is messed up,” Eskel said, peering over his sunglasses into the quivering distance. Sun was beating them down, and sweat trickled down his back as he laid on the cement floor. He cast a glance at the half-collapsed roof, hoping it wouldn’t decide to rain down on them in the next fifteen or so minutes. _

“ _ I know,” Geralt muttered from behind him. Eskel heard him adjust the scope slightly and then everything fell silent again, save for the occasional sound of a faraway truck and the sand whistling when wind took hold. _

_ The shot came just as Eskel allowed his mind to drift. It was an amateur mistake, but one he knew everyone made from time to time. The sound of a bullet tearing through air as it went made him twitch. He smelled gunpowder, desert, and sweat; then Geralt started putting the rifle back together with his infinitely steady hands. _

“ _ Ok?” Eskel asked. _

“ _ Duh,” Geralt chuckled. _

_ Eskel reached for the radio mic strapped to his chest. _

“ _ Nostradamus, this is Kilroy, over.” _

“ _ Kilroy, Nostradamus listening, over.” _

_ Geralt snorted. “I keep wondering who comes up with our codes.” Eskel elbowed him, hard. _

“ _ Tango down, Nostradamus. Requesting lift-off from Romeo-three-six-eight. Over.” _

“ _ Lift-up from Romeo-three-six-eight is no-go, Kilroy. You need to make it further. Over.” _

“ _ The fuck they mean further?” Geralt asked as he bagged the rifle. “This place will be crawling with hostiles in five blessed minutes.” _

“ _ Nostradamus, say again. Where do we need to go?” _

_ The voice at the other end suddenly changed. Eskel knew right away Vesemir had snatched the mic from their squad’s signaller. _

“ _ Listen, you morons. The barn screwed up the lift-off. You need to run. Head for the fountain until I call for you again. There’s a house with ladders you can jump over right next to you. You’ll see it when you turn your pretty heads left, it cuts the distance in half. Over.” _

“ _ Copy that, Nostradamus. Kilroy out,” Eskel said. Only when the line went dead, he muttered a few curses and then scrambled up from the floor. _

“ _ Okay, seems like we’re going to start doing some laps,” Eskel said. Geralt rolled his eyes and heaved the bag on his back, over his vest and picked up his rifle. He checked the magazine and the chamber with familiar, automatic movements. _

“ _ Tell me something I don’t know.” _

“ _ You’re not nearly as handsome as you like to think,” Eskel shot back as they started creeping towards the stairs. _

“ _ Hey, cruelty isn’t nice,” Geralt laughed before falling silent. _

_ The house was right where Vesemir had told them it would be. Eskel went first, letting Geralt cover for him. The alley remained deserted, but he knew they had less than three minutes to get the hell out of here. When he reached the roof, he whistled and kept an eye out. From his vantage, he could see a truck speeding towards their location. He muttered a curse and wiped away some sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes. _

_ The roof wasn’t high, but the ladder on the other side had been broken. Only some desolate pieces of wood clung to the railing. _

“ _ I’m going to kill that idiot,” Eskel grunted as he estimated the height. It was less than three meters; with a good landing it would be no hassle, but the ground down below was rocky and uneven. _

“ _ Down you go, we’re about to be seen,” Geralt muttered. Eskel cast a glance at his brother. Geralt held his assault rifle without a trace of fear or agitation, coolly observing the truck Eskel could hear coming. _

_ He landed clumsily, scrabbling for balance and then straightening himself. Eskel aimed the short barrel of his gun down the deserted, narrow street he was standing on. He made it a few steps when he heard Geralt land and then draw in a breath. Something about the sound was off, though. It was way too deep and alarmed. _

_ Eskel turned around despite his instinct howling at him for leaving the alley unguarded behind his back. Then his brain ground to a halt. _

_ Geralt was trying to stand up, but a long, rusty pole was embedded into his abdomen. The vest and the fatigue jacket were torn, and blood was seeping through alarmingly fast. _

_ Inanely Eskel thought he had seen the pole as he had landed next to it. Its existence had slipped his mind just as quickly. _

_ Geralt made it upright with a pained grunt. His eyes were suddenly wild with adrenaline and fear, and Eskel started groping for the radio. _

“ _ No!” Geralt growled as he pressed a hand to the wound and grimaced. “I’m not gonna die. Let’s fucking go.” _

_ It was a mad dash through alleys and streets, with the scrape of their boots and the crackle of the radio the dominant sounds. Eskel kept glancing at Geralt and nausea gripped his throat. The blood wouldn’t stop flowing, and Geralt grew paler under his helmet and dust mask. When Eskel finally saw a familiar car in the distance, he wanted to collapse with relief. _

_ He didn’t. That honor was reserved for Geralt, who made it to the backseat before promptly fainting and giving Eskel approximately three heart attacks in the time it took them to make it back to the base. _

***

Regis closed the front door and sighed deeply. He was desperately wishing for the weekend to arrive already. He was tired down to his bones, and there were still three more weeks to go before the mid-March break of lectures.

When he poked his head into the living room, Dettlaff rose up from the sofa and kissed him.

“ Hi,” he said. “How was your day?”

“ Busy,” Regis groaned as he slumped down onto the spot his partner had vacated. “The faculty is breathing down my neck about those examinations, and we just received news doctor Jahandar isn’t getting back from her maternity leave for another two months.”

Dettlaff sat down and pulled Regis closer. Regis relaxed against him and closed his eyes.

Things that had in the past made him feel energized and challenged now seemed like insurmountable obstacles. Dettlaff’s hand soothed his hair, and Regis swallowed as once again his mind dragged the hurt into the foreground.

He had felt scared and raw when Geralt had acted without thinking and slammed Dettlaff’s brother into the wall. Regis had somehow managed to forget that the gentle man he had come to know Geralt as was only one side of the many aspects of their lover; witnessing what Geralt had fought so hard to leave behind resurface in seconds had made Regis act on his own instinct of fear. He had told Geralt to leave, and managed to make it sound unforgiving, even mean.

Only later, when they had been both laying in bed and Dettlaff had drifted off to fitful sleep, did Regis understand that what he had seen had not been an uncontrolled impulse of violence: Geralt had been trying to protect them both from a man he viewed as an immediate threat. The way he had gone about it had been something Regis had never seen directed towards himself, and it had taken him hours to recognize it for what it was.

He had broken down, then, his body heaving with silent sobs and head splitting with a migraine. Regis couldn’t ever remember feeling more like a worthless excuse of a human being, and with his past that was saying something.

He had tried calling Geralt the next morning, but only received an automated message telling him the number would not connect. Regis had wiped his puffy eyes and set down his phone. He had thought it was only natural if Geralt wanted to keep his distance.

But the number never connected. Regis tried calling time and again, and the calls never went through. Logically speaking, he knew he could have tried to go to Geralt’s home to track him down, but it felt like too much. If Geralt didn’t want to speak to him, Regis would keep his distance.

Only, it was becoming difficult. Regis could tell Dettlaff missed Geralt as much as he did. They had not managed to have a discussion about the man without it evolving into a shouting match for the time being, and Regis knew it was because they were both feeling like they had collectively pushed Geralt away and the truth was hurting so badly it was unbearable.

Regis had thought he would eventually find some semblance of peace, because the attempted relationship had been triggering every single one of his old fears and made him behave like an idiot on occasion. He had hoped that once the initial pain started healing, he would be able to rebuild his relationship with Dettlaff and they could go on, scarred and tired, but ultimately wiser and more careful with their hearts.

Only it wasn’t happening. Regis saw Dettlaff growing silent and the depression taking hold, and he had no idea what to do. When Geralt had been a part of their life, he’d managed to drag Dettlaff out to the garage often enough to make them both see it did him good to get out of his head regularly. Dettlaff had liked working on cars, the contrast to his day job being both immense and welcome. Geralt had even told Regis once, while fairly drunk, that he had been feeling lonely for years and that Dettlaff had been the kind of friend he’d always hoped for.

And now Regis was stuck watching Dettlaff slip back into the dark cloud that every now and then threatened to swallow him whole. Regis had initially felt betrayed when he had learned Dettlaff had told Geralt his life story, but in retrospect Regis had understood how monumental a shift it had been; Dettlaff had spent years refusing therapy, and him talking about his past was a big change in the dynamic. Regis hadn’t managed to understand what had been happening until they had managed to let Geralt slip through their fingers.

Regis buried his head into Dettlaff’s neck, and the man sighed, holding him closer. Their mutual sadness was enormous enough to fill all of the silences, and while they couldn’t find the words to discuss it, they both knew what made the other blink away tears and stare into the distance.

Regis missed Geralt so much he was afraid his heart would just give out on him. He missed the cocky grins and gentle smiles, the way Geralt nagged to him about remembering to eat and take breaks when he worked, and most of all Regis missed the way Geralt had managed to bring out the best in them both, and make Regis believe humans could be good and selfless.

Watching Dettlaff suffer was breaking Regis’ heart, because his partner had been forthright about his own emotions from the get-go. Dettlaff had told them both, on several occasions, how deeply he was falling for Geralt, and every single time he had also remembered to remind Regis he was loved, too. And Regis had not managed to get his head together fast enough to see his heart could handle them both. He had been stuck in his own past. He hadn’t realized it, but by the time he told Geralt to leave, his heart had already accommodated him. Now that space was empty and hurting, and not healing at all.

***

Eskel watched as Geralt ran the drill one more time before telling their troop they had done well enough. The group saluted with mock-seriousness and immediately scattered into the shadow of a building to strip and clean the guns, and Geralt joined Eskel by the wall.

“ What a group of heroes,” he said as a greeting as he pulled down his bandanna and pushed his sunglasses up. He was already getting a tan line from the glasses, and it only served to accentuate the dark circles under his eyes.

“ They’re not that bad,” Eskel said. “Way better at handling their head than we were, at any rate.”

Geralt sighed as he stripped off the vest and backpack. “At least as long as it takes them to run into a sticky situation.”

Eskel crouched down and handed Geralt a bottle of water. “True. But it’s not gonna happen on this tour. We’re past the point I’d officially categorize as bumfuck nowhere here.”

Geralt chuckled as he drank half of the water. “Let’s hope so.”

Sun went down fast, and by dinner the base was illuminated only by the big halogen lights. Eskel knew that the night sky was breathtakingly beautiful here. You just had to walk some ways off from the lights, and then the whole space seemed to open up before your eyes.

Hot wind was blowing when he walked to the cafeteria from their barracks. Geralt was coming after him, arguing with the warrant officer about the drill schedules. Eskel knew neither of them took the other very seriously, but that was exactly the reason they worked so well together; Geralt thought Jameson was uptight and paid too much attention to useless details, whereas Jameson had told Geralt right away what he thought of former SO’s getting hired as instructors. They had spent the first week of deployment avoiding each other, and then noticed that mutual griping fitted them much better.

Eskel knew he and Geralt had done good work on their troop. In January they had been handed a small class of newly-minted infantry soldiers full to bursting with enthusiasm, and then they had gradually broken them down and built them back up, until by March they resembled a potentially useful group of soldiers.

And then the orders had come in.

They had both known right away that they would get deployed when Roche had called a meeting and told the staff that one troop would be sent out to test the new system of educating reconnaissance specialized soldiers. Roche’s eyes had avoided Eskel and Geralt, but a sense of foreboding had taken over them. In less than a week their names had been called.

Geralt fell silent after they had eaten and made their way back into the housing unit. As he settled on to his bunk and dug out his phone to send the daily “I’m alive and I love you” email to Triss, Eskel stole a sidelong glance at his friend.

Geralt was still looking tired. Eskel had noticed his friend growing pale and quiet in December, and he had known the mysterious relationship had apparently ended badly around that time. He had wanted to ask about it, but right after that the army life had swallowed them whole, and then it seemed cruel to bring up the topic.

Eskel knew Geralt wasn’t sleeping very well. He’d often been woken up when Geralt scrambled awake from whatever nightmare was plaguing him. During daytime Geralt threw himself into the work, but as soon as there was an idle moment, he seemed to slip somewhere far off; whenever he did, his face turned sad.

Eskel had had half a mind of doing some good old-fashioned snooping and finding out who his friend had been seeing. He would’ve loved to give a piece of his mind to the nameless persons, because they had managed to hurt his friend in a way Eskel hadn’t witnessed before. After Yen had left, Geralt had managed to claw his way back into the world of the living in a few months. Now it had been almost half a year, and he only seemed to get worse as time passed.

Ultimately Eskel had refrained, because he knew Geralt would get spitting mad if he found out. He never abandoned the idea, however. He had known Geralt all his life, and this time someone had managed to get under his thick skin so thoroughly it had left him shaken and depressed. Eskel wasn’t one for describing things in romantic terms, but even he could see Geralt had been in love — still was for the time being, judging by how badly he seemed to be hurting

***

Geralt was feeling like shit. That wasn’t anything new in his books, but it was accompanied by such profound unease he kept looking over his shoulder as they hopped out of the vehicle and went over the details one last time. The ground around them was dry, but several shrubs and small trees clung to it with the same stubbornness Geralt had come to expect from the locals. He could see the outline of the mountain range in the horizon, soon lost into the heated air.

He had slept maybe four hours the night before. Some part was because he was nervous, but mostly he attributed it to his brain refusing to let go of the persistent sorrow that had been haunting him since December. If he wasn’t having nightmares that shook him violently awake, he lay awake and watched a remix reel of moments he had dubbed “things I screwed up.”

He had wondered how long it was possible to keep feeling like some essential part of him had been ripped away with such violence the wounds refused to scab over. He had managed to misplace the tears after getting frostbite that first night after things went to hell, but instead of slowly healing he had started feeling hollow and unreal; life went on around him and he performed the motions, but there was a constant ache deep inside his chest he couldn’t shake.

He missed Dettlaff and Regis so much the mere thought of them made Geralt want to double over. He had bought a new phone after deeming the old one beyond salvation, and he could have found their numbers with little effort. Hell, he could have visited them.

He almost did, once in January, when he had been driving aimlessly around in the dead of the night. He had let the car idle in front of their apartment for almost twenty minutes before he had driven off. He had been feeling angry, but most of all he was scared to death they would tell him to go away again. Once had been bad enough.

Geralt shook his head as Eskel finished the short monologue. They were supposed to conduct a half-day patrol in the nearby villages. Nothing special in his books, objectively speaking. Get in, talk with locals with the help of the interpreter, and then get out and back to the base by evening. It was meat-and-potatoes, just the kind of thing they had been tasked with on their first round south.

Geralt started walking, leading the way. They had been dropped some ways off from what he would have preferred, but the brass wanted the new guys and girls to get used to the heat and carrying their equipment in it. Geralt could’ve called bullshit, but he knew it wouldn’t have been received well. The truth was that everyone in their squad was adjusting well, and the officers just wanted to make it seem like they were doing something worthwhile with their time.

An hour passed in silence, with only the mandatory check-ins on the radio and occasional remarks about the scenery. The first village came into view a short while after that. Geralt and the rest of the squad had looked it up on a map the night before. Sixteen houses clustered around the only functioning well. Reports indicated the area had been under rebel influence two years past, but everything had been calm after they had left.

Just as Geralt was ready to call for a break, his disquiet skyrocketed. He whirled around, and saw what the guy behind him had noticed a second before himself: two young boys were running towards them through the heat, but they weren’t using the road. They were crossing the patches of dried grass and shrubbery, smiling and waving. Geralt shouted a warning, horror scrabbling up his throat.

Only the road had been swept for landmines.

He wasted a second to see that the shout reached his unit, and that everybody had heeded the alert. He saw the last one of them hit the ground and then he turned back around. The boys were so small, only four or five. Geralt heard someone scream at them from the distance, and then he saw something propel itself up with a cloud of dust and sand maybe fifty meters away from his squad.

He had half a second to see the sun catch the gleaming metal and the cloud of black smoke made by the propelling charge, and then he heard the explosion. 

***

Dettlaff was shaken out of his reverie by a gentle hand. Regis’ eyes found his, and the man gave him a soft smile before returning to his own book. Dettlaff realized he had been staring into the distance again, his mind idly rolling over the last sentence he could remember reading. Glancing back at the page, he noticed he couldn’t recall anything he had read in the past half an hour.

He put the book down and rubbed his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. He walked to the window and looked outside, noticing that somehow summer was creeping over the town already. The trees had shrouded themselves in green. People had started shedding their coats, clearly in hopes of warm weather. He had been so lost inside his head the whole winter that the cold months had just slipped past him, despite it being his favorite season.

Dettlaff’s eyes caught a banner on the side of a passing bus, advertising the local pride parade, and his stomach dropped. It had been almost exactly a year since they had met Geralt.

Dettlaff remembered running into him and having a passing thought about his gorgeous face. Then they had met again by chance, and shortly after it had started dawning on him that maybe Geralt was more special than he had seemed at a first glance. By the time the summer had been over, Dettlaff had been nursing an embarrassingly strong crush on his new friend. He had known Regis found Geralt equally delightful, and everything had been terribly confusing. His heart had just kept tugging at the sight of Geralt smiling at him, explaining yet another thing about cars, or listening to him rant about X-Bar theory.

When Geralt had walked in looking like someone had broken his heart, Dettlaff had been ready to go find whoever was responsible for putting such an expression on his face. Then he had felt a stab of momentary panic, followed closely by disbelieving rush of overwhelming joy. He had kissed Geralt, and it had been even better than he had ever imagined.

He groaned, because once again his mind deemed it prudent to remind him what he had lost, and it didn’t hurt any less than it had the previous thousand times.

Regis looked up when he turned around. Dettlaff drew in a breath, and finally he found he could speak the words that had been building inside his head for months.

“ This is not getting better.”

Regis’ gaze fell into his lap, and he fidgeted with his notebook for a few seconds. Dettlaff joined him on the sofa and drew his knees up to his chest.

“ I’m not getting over him,” he continued. “I just miss him so much it’s tearing my head apart.” His breath hitched. Regis took his hand and managed a sad smile.

“ I know.”

Dettlaff turned to look at his partner. “You’re feeling the same way, aren’t you?”

Regis swallowed and his face crumbled under the pain.

“ Yes,” he whispered. “I miss him, too.”

“ Will you tell me now why you didn’t give him an answer then?” Dettlaff asked. He turned around and drew Regis into his lap.

“ I feared you would fall in love with him and leave me,” Regis said, wiping his eyes. “I got so caught up in my own troubles that I didn’t see it wasn’t the case until it was too late.”

Dettlaff pressed a kiss to Regis’ hair. “I keep telling you, time and again, that I have promised to be honest with you. I love you, and the fact that I love him doesn’t make it anything less.”

Speaking the words felt good. The whole winter had passed with Dettlaff feeling like he was carrying around an inflamed organ, which kept throbbing and hurting him; now some of the rot was finally seeping away.

Regis sniffed and leaned on him, stroking his hand with his thumb. “I know. It took me way too long to realize how much I had started to care for Geralt.”

It was the first time either of them had said his name aloud. Even when they had shouted themselves hoarse, they hadn’t dared to utter his name. Somehow it would have made things even more painful.

Regis turned around. His eyes were red, and Dettlaff knew he wasn’t probably looking much better. “I keep regretting everything that came to pass. I just want him back,” Regis said quietly. He looked down. “I tried to call him several times, but the number doesn’t connect any more,” he confessed quietly.

Dettlaff dug out his own phone. He had kept reading old messages over and over again when he had been feeling particularly masochistic.

“ _ The dialed number cannot be reached-” _

Regis overheard the tinny voice and shrugged. “It has been like that ever since...” He trailed off, but Dettlaff knew he was talking about the night they collectively managed to destroy everything.

“ Maybe his phone is broken?” Dettlaff said. A restlessness he couldn’t remember feeling in months was starting to overtake him. They had finally been able to admit they wanted and needed Geralt back in their life, and it had pushed something loose inside him.

Regis cocked his head. “You want to go see him,” he said.

“ Don’t you?” Dettlaff asked in retort.

Regis’ face broke into a hesitant smile. “More than anything. Even if I’m afraid to death.”

“ So am I,” Dettlaff said. “But I’ll go crazy if we don’t try to solve this.”

***

Eskel was shaken awake by the doctor. He realized he had been leaning on the metal railing of the hospital bed and drooling onto the sheets. He blinked his eyes and forced his mind to wake up. The stitches on his back and shoulders made a warning sting when he straightened up.

“ Everything alright?” he asked. His voice was still hoarse from the shouting.

The doctor, a tall, middle-aged woman with short brown hair and small rectangular glasses looked at the hospital bed.

“ He needs to be operated on,” she said bluntly. “I can’t do that here, his injuries are too serious. The best I can do is to keep him under and give him the strongest antibiotics I have to keep the infection at bay.”

Eskel swore under his breath. He rose to his feet and rubbed his eyes. “Will he be taken away?”

The doctor gave him a faint smile. “The chopper is coming as we speak. We managed to stall a home-bound plane at the main air base. It’s his best chance.” She fell silent and looked through the charts she was carrying. “Do you know him well?” she asked.

Eskel nodded mutely.

“ It’s not strictly speaking the correct operational principle, but since you’re to be sent back as well, you could go with him. If he wakes up, a familiar face might do him good.”

Eskel felt the breath go out of him in relief when he took in the words. He had been trying to formulate a way to ask for exactly that, but had thus far only come up with storming the chopper and refusing to be carried out. He nodded to the doctor, and was glad both of them had clearly been at their profession long enough to know that sometimes words just didn’t work.

Ten hours later Eskel was regretting many things. He regretted coming back to the army, agreeing to be deployed, not talking against the lieutenant when he’d commanded them on a patrol, and most of all agreeing to accompany his brother’s half-dead body through the night.

Objectively speaking there wasn’t a lot he could or would have done differently, but Eskel kept going over the list as he watched Geralt grow paler and hours tick away.

The chopper flight had taken them less time than he would’ve guessed. Geralt had been wheeled straight into the plane, which had apparently sat there waiting for them after being stopped on the runway at the last possible moment. It was carrying the previous rotation of soldiers back home, and they had been initially grumpy about the delay.

All protests had died when the situation had been explained to them. Eskel had been given a place next to the bed, and then the plane had taken off. He had managed to doze off for a while at some point, lulled into restless sleep by the turbulence and the murmured conversations of the troops behind him.

They had landed just as sun was starting to rise. Geralt had been taken away, and Eskel had ripped out a stitch as he jogged to keep up. No one seemed to know what to do with him, so they let him sit with Geralt at the back of the ambulance as it sped towards the hospital. At that point Eskel had been feeling like he was coming apart at the seams.

He knew they must have phoned Ciri at some point by now. The girl would no doubt rush to the hospital, so Eskel tried to formulate a plan for when they eventually ran into each other.

How did you tell a girl her dad could die? How did you tell her that there were several shrapnels stuck inside his body, some of them most likely so close to his heart and lungs it was a miracle he hadn’t died already?

Eskel was directed into an empty room to wait with Geralt as the operation room was prepped. A nurse came in and started preparing Geralt for surgery, hooking several bags of saline to the bedpost and trying to find a good vein for the IV needle. Eskel took his friend’s uninjured hand and held it in silence, trying to fight back the panic.

Minutes slid by in silence, and then Geralt made a faint groan. Eskel’s eyes shot to him, and he was met with a bleary, unfocused gaze. He guessed the meds were starting to wear off.

Geralt made a pained whimper and tried to swallow. Eskel guessed his throat was probably raw and dry, but he didn’t dare to give him any water. He looked at the nurse, who nodded wordlessly as he pressed the call button several times.

“ Where-?” Geralt croaked.

Eskel squeezed his hand carefully. “Home. In a hospital. You’re hurt.”

“ Guessed.”

Eskel laughed a bit hysterically. “You’re gonna go under a knife in a second.”

“ Have they…called anyone?” Geralt whispered. His eyes were growing more and more pained, and the nurse pressed the call button again.

“ Where the hell is that doctor?” he muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth.

Eskel cleared his throat. “Dunno yet. Ciri’s been informed, I’d say.”

Another kind of pain flashed in Geralt’s face. “Take care of her.”

“ You’re going to be fine,” Eskel choked out.

Geralt ignored him. His face twisted, and the nurse ran out of the room, calling for a doctor.

“ I needed to tell them-” Geralt continued, struggling to get the words out and clearly in increasing pain.

“ Shut your trap, you idiot,” Eskel said, looking towards the door to see if the doctor was coming. Geralt tugged at his hand weakly, pulling his focus back to himself.

“ I needed to tell Regis… and Dettlaff that I–” Another grimace of pain cut Geralt short, and Eskel was just about ready to run after the nurse when he came back with three doctors and a cart full of supplies.

Geralt tugged at his hand again, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t want to leave,” he whispered, just before the doctor pushed something into the IV. A second later his eyes closed, and then he bed was wheeled out of the room.

***

Ciri slipped the key into the lock of the garage door just as an unknown car pulled in front of it. It was the ugliest Toyota she had ever seen, and her mind quietly supplied her with several details about the model. She had refused to get a car of her own, but the things she’d learned from Geralt were all inside her head, jumbled together.

The doors opened, and two men stepped out. To her surprise, she recognized one of them. She had seen him in passing at the university. The man had caught her eye because he looked foreign and aristocratic, with his black hair and classically handsome face. She had even considered enrolling in his course on language and law the following year, because her friends had said his lectures were very good.

The other man was a bit older. He had very dark eyes that found her immediately. She expected them to walk past her, but the man with the curious eyes walked straight to her.

“ Oh, goodness. You’re Cirilla, aren’t you?” he said, his voice quiet and surprised.

Ciri blinked a few times. Something about the voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

“ Yes, can I help you?” she asked warily.

The taller man came closer and looked apologetic. “Forgive our manners. We’re friends of Geralt. My name is Dettlaff, and this is Regis,” he said. His voice was very deep. Closer up, Ciri suddenly saw both of them looked exhausted. Dettlaff had dark circles under his eyes, and the man who he had called Regis was very pale.

Dettlaff managed a small smile. “We’re looking for our mutual friend, in fact,” he continued.

Ciri felt the tears come again. She had thought she had cried herself empty at the hospital, but now a new spring of them seemed to have sprung up.

“ Oh, gods,” she rasped, trying and failing to grapple for any control. “You don’t know.”

Regis stepped closer and offered her a tissue, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“ What is it?” he asked. There was fear in his eyes.

She managed to recount what had happened, with several breaks when her resolve simply crumbled. The second time it happened Regis pulled her into a hug, and Ciri simply leaned on him and cried into his shoulder. Dettlaff stroked her back, and when she finally surfaced she could see his eyes were full of tears as well.

She told them everything, because suddenly she could tell who they were. She knew where Regis’ voice was familiar, and why they had known to come looking for Geralt at the garage. They needed to know Geralt might die.

Dettlaff offered to drive her back to the hospital when she had retrieved the things she’d come looking for. Ciri accepted, and during the ride she kept trying to understand how Geralt had managed to end up with them. She liked both of them immediately, but they were like chalk and cheese when she mentally tried to compare them to her surrogate father. By the time they reached the hospital she decided to give up trying to figure out what went through Geralt’s head at any given time.

“ You’re coming, too,” she told them when Dettlaff parked the car. Both of them turned to gape at her, and she rolled her eyes, some of her inborn spite returning.

“ I know who you are,” she blurted out. “We don’t know what’s going to happen yet, but I know you two are important to him.”

She heard Regis draw in a breath, and Dettlaff reached to squeeze his hand quickly before they climbed out of the car and followed her. She got lost three times before locating a familiar corridor, and when she finally burst into the room she made Eskel jump in alarm.

“ Christ, Ciri, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” he said as he sat back down. Someone had brought him fresh clothes and he had taken a shower, and as a result Eskel was looking less like a walking corpse.

“ Where is he?” Ciri asked and sat down on the bed next to him.

“ Still in surgery,” Eskel said quietly. His eyes moved to the door, and Ciri saw Regis and Dettlaff were still hovering.

“ Come in, no use for you two to stand there,” Ciri said, gesturing towards the free bed. Dettlaff came in and sat down, but Regis remained where he stood.

“ I could go and see what’s happening,” he said and glanced over his shoulder.

Eskel sighed. “No use. I’ve been bugging them for the past seven hours.”

Ciri saw Regis smile faintly, and something about his expression made her feel a bit better. 

“I might hope to have more success. I’m a doctor, and I work at this hospital.”

He left with that, and Ciri turned her wide eyes to Dettlaff. The man met her gaze steadily, but Ciri could tell he was feeling awkward.

“ You work at the university, don’t you?” she asked him.

Dettlaff nodded. “At the English department,” he affirmed.

Ciri smiled. “I thought you looked familiar. I study there.”

“ I know,” Dettlaff said quietly. “Geralt talked about you often.” He looked away, and Ciri knew she had been right to invite them here. She didn’t know what had happened between the two peculiar men and Geralt, but both of them seemed like they were helplessly in love.

She glanced at Eskel. The man lifted an eyebrow, and Ciri shrugged.

***

Regis knew, from his experience as a surgeon, that waiting for a loved one to get out of the operating room was one of the worst ways to wait for minutes and hours to pass. He had never been on this side of the experience, however, and desperately hoped this would be the one and only occasion.

He had found out where Geralt was, but had been denied access even to the proximity of the operating room. He had rolled his eyes at the stuffy military police, but ultimately deigned to return to the room and wait like the rest of them.

It took them two more hours before Geralt was brought back into his room. He was still under, and in Regis’ expert opinion, looked about two seconds from being dead. He had never found himself queasy before, but the sight sent him scrambling into the toilet, where he proceeded to puke out everything he had eaten in the past twenty four hours. When he managed to pull himself together and return to the room, Dettlaff pulled him closer and they settled down on one of the free beds to wait.

Cirilla had let out a broken gasp when Geralt was brought in. She had seemed like she might faint, but instead she pulled up a chair and proceeded to interrogate the doctor about every single detail the chart said. Regis didn’t know whether she understood half of the medical jargon the doctor kept spouting, and he took care to take it all in so he could answer her questions later.

They had sat in silence for almost an hour, when the door was suddenly slammed open. Eskel jumped to his feet with such speed Regis knew right away he was one of the men from the photo Geralt had tacked on his garage wall.

At the door stood another man, with short, dark brown hair and a livid expression.

“ I told that fucker to not go,” he said, not minding his volume in the slightest as he stalked into the room and came to stop at Geralt’s bed. “Fucking idiot! I told him it wouldn’t end well!”

“ Hello, Lambert,” Cirilla said in a tired voice. The man wheeled around and dragged her into a tight hug, holding her close and stroking her hair.

“ Hi Ciri,” he said when he finally let her go. “You’re looking like shit.”

Ciri punched the man’s shoulder. “Thanks, nice to see you too.”

The man – Lambert – turned back towards Geralt. “When you wake up, I’m going to tear you a new asshole,” he said in a deathly calm voice to his unconscious friend.

Eskel snorted. “No need, the mine nearly did that.”

Regis had suspected how Geralt had received his injuries, but getting his fears confirmed made him shudder. Dettlaff reached for his hand, and he took it.

Lambert leaned on a bed railing and kept staring at Geralt and Eskel. “I can’t believe he managed to step into one of those shits,” he muttered. “How is he even alive?”

Eskel looked away. “We were on a road, going to a village. Two kids ran out into the field and triggered a bouncing betty. It went off almost sixty meters from us.”

“ A bouncing betty?” Ciri asked.

Eskel made a face. “It’s an anti-personnel landmine. When it gets triggered, it jumps up into the air and detonates.”.

Ciri turned her head away, looking nauseous. “And the kids?” she whispered.

Eskel only shook his head, and she wiped her eyes. Regis turned his head away, grief gripping his heart. He had known right away the kids would have stood no chance, but it still hurt.

“ How’s the rest of the squad?” Lambert asked after a short silence.

“ They’re fine. Geralt saw the kids early and warned the rest of us. He made sure everybody got down in time,” Eskel said in a hollow voice. Regis swallowed down bile as he understood. Geralt’s first instinct had been to make sure everyone else was safe.

Lambert drew in a calculated breath and then kicked the empty bed hard. It made an awful rattle as he cursed and sank down on it.

“ Fucking self-sacrificing idiot,” he groaned. “I liked him much better when he was an asshole.”

Ciri made a skeptical laugh as she wiped away her tears, and Lambert looked up.

“ Oh, he was a real thoroughbred prick when we first met,” he said. “He was my big brother at our unit, and treated me like a fucking personal slave back then.”

“ That’s because you were an even bigger asshole than you’re now,” Eskel put in, and Lambert flipped him off. Then his eyes finally landed on Regis and Dettlaff, and Regis felt something cold _ and  _ hot rush down his back.

“ And then we get to you guys,” Lambert said. He stood up and crossed his arms, watching them coldly. “Me and Eskel noticed that Geralt was looking weirdly happy last autumn. He kept dodging all questions, so we concluded he was probably screwing some guy and feeling all proper and secretive about it.”

“ Lambert!” Eskel hissed, looking scandalized and glancing at Ciri. The young woman rolled her eyes at him.

Lambert ignored them both. “And then suddenly he becomes bitchy and moody, and refuses to spill anything before fucking off to rejoin the army,” he said. “Then he kept being morose and pathetic all spring, until the brass decided to ship him off.”

Regis looked down and tried to swallow. His throat was suddenly very dry.

Lambert reached into his bag and pulled out a stack of envelopes. “Do you know what soldiers do when they ship out?” he asked. Regis looked up and shook his head.

“ They write letters,” Lambert told him. “And then they leave them to someone they trust, because if they are an asshole and manage to get blown to bits,” Lambert cast a seething glance to Geralt, “this someone gets the dubious honor of delivering the said letters.”

Lambert slowly shuffled the letters, handing Eskel four of them, and then picking one of the remaining ones up. “I had his letters. So when Ciri calls me and tells Geralt is maybe going to die, I know I needed to see who he had written to. Can you imagine my surprise when I have no fucking clue who the guys listed on one of them are, only to walk in here and see two unfamiliar faces gathered around his bed?”

Lambert rubbed his eyes. He looked suddenly very tired. “So, I’m saying fuck it. You guys made him so miserable you’ll get your letter beforehand. If that asshole pulls through, he’s not gonna be able to run fast enough to catch me, and you three idiots can maybe start making up for whatever it is you screwed up.”

With that, he threw down an envelope on the bed Regis and Dettlaff were sitting on. Regis looked at it, not daring to touch it. He saw Geralt’s familiar scrawl, spelling out both of their names.

***

“ _ Dear Regis and Dettlaff, _

_ I’m sorry you’re reading this letter. I’m also sorry for the guy who delivered it. He probably already gave you a piece of his mind; he’s like that, and I wouldn’t take it very personally. _

_ As you have probably already guessed, I’m either dead, or will be very soon. These letters will only go out in case the writer dies in line of duty. We were told to write our first ones when we shipped out for the first time, and the habit stuck. I never actually had much to say in them before I got kicked out, because I was kind of bad at maintaining any kind of relationships. _

_ Now I do have something to say. I kept wondering whether I should write both of you your own personal letters, but you’ve always been a unit inside my head. You both deserve to hear the things I have to say. _

_ I’m so sorry. _

_ Regis, I’m sorry I made your life difficult. I tried to be honest, but I was scared you’d feel even worse about the situation we were in last autumn, so I couldn’t tell you exactly what I was thinking. _

_ Dettlaff, I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t respect you. I won’t apologize for throwing your asshole of a brother out of your house, because I only wanted to protect you, but I do apologize for making both of you see the uglier side of me. _

_ I wanted to say this for so long: I love you. Both of you. When we had that first talk right after Ciri guessed where we stood, I realized I had gone and fallen in love with you, and then like an asshole I just clammed up instead of being honest where it might have mattered. _

_ There were several instances when I could have just opened my fucking mouth and told you how I really felt. It kept eating away at me, but I was afraid. I don’t have any excuses for myself, I was simply scared to death you would kick me out. _

_ Back in summer, right when I realized I had fallen for you, I knew I could never live with myself if I managed to mess up the closest thing to a good relationship I had ever witnessed. That’s part of the reason why I stayed silent, but I also kind of imagined things would sort themselves out on their own. I was a damn idiot. _

_ The months we spent together, as friends and then as lovers, were some of the best ones I’ve ever had. And to be honest (I get to do that, because these letters won’t reach you if I don’t kick the bucket) the ones that followed our breakup were hollow and just fucking horrible. I broke my phone that same night I left, and then couldn’t muster up the courage to come see you afterwards. I wanted to, but I was – again – scared. _

_ Well, now I can say everything, so I’ll just go ahead and make a fool of myself. _

_ Dettlaff, you’re amazing. I fell in love with you because you’re gorgeous and kind, and then I kept falling for all the little things you do, like claiming you don’t need reading glasses (you do), how you always cooked for us, and how you liked sleeping practically on top of me. Having you around at the garage reminded me why I liked fixing cars, because your enthusiasm was contagious. The time I got to spend with you was always precious to me. Please reconsider what I told you about the therapy. You deserve to be happy. _

_ Regis. I don’t know what secret you carry inside of you, but I kept hoping you’d open up. I wanted to know everything there was to you, because you’re like a brilliant mystery that kept pulling me in. I even promise I would’ve let you speak without interrupting, for once. You’re also kind and gentle, wickedly clever and charming, and I kept hoping I would’ve kissed you much earlier. You always managed to find the right words, and the depth of your caring is staggering. _

_ I never imagined I’d end up in love with two people at the same time, but here we are. I’m writing this the night before we’re flying out, and I’m still just as smitten with you as I was in December. I’m also hurting badly, because I know we collectively messed things up, and my traitor mind keeps hoping they could still be fixed. _

_ So I’m hoping you never have to read these words and that I can kick my own ass hard enough when I come back, so that after I burn this letter I’ll finally find the backbone to come ring your doorbell. _

_ I miss you both, and if you do end up reading this, know that I want you to be happy. This letter will probably mess up a lot of things, too, but I’m just selfish enough to write it anyway. I’d probably come back to haunt everyone if I didn’t force myself to get this out of my system. _

_ I love you both so much. _

_ Geralt _

***

Everything was hurting. There was a splintering trail of pain starting from his neck, sweeping down inside his chest and ending near the left hip. Smaller aches slowly made themselves known, too, and together they were making sleep impossible.

He must’ve made a sound, because suddenly there was movement next to him, a screech made by a chair pushed backwards on linoleum, and a frantic muttering accompanied by a clicking sound.

Geralt managed to pry open his eyes. The room was dim, but a night lamp was on, and in its light he saw that Ciri was peering out of the door. She turned around, saw his eyes were open, and made a strained sob as she rushed to his bedside. Her hair was hanging limply around her face and her eyes seemed to have sunken into their sockets.

“ How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice cracking. A small, cool hand brushed his hair.

“ Like shit,” Geralt said. His throat was parched.

Ciri sniffled and tried to smile. “You’ve been sleeping for two days.” Then tears leaked out from her eyes. Geralt lifted his right hand and carefully pulled her closer. His left side was on fire, but the right side seemed to only throb and ache.

Ciri leaned on his shoulder lightly, her body heaving with sobs. “We thought you were going to die. Eskel came back with you, and then they called me and told you had been hit by a mine, and I thought–” Her voice broke down, and Geralt kissed her hair.

“ I’m gonna live,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s alright. I’m sorry.”

When Ciri calmed down she sat back up and blew her nose on a filthy handkerchief. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

“ How’s everyone doing?” Geralt asked her.

“ Eskel only got an impressive row on stitches. He managed to rip out three of them on your way here, but otherwise he’s ok,” Ciri said with a watery smile. “The rest of your squad is fine. They sent you an email and called you an idiot.”

Geralt chuckled, despite feeling like his chest had been stepped on by a mammoth.

The door creaked open, and a short, black woman in a white coat entered. Her natural, curly hair caught the light of the lamp like a dark halo when she stood at the foot of the bed and glanced at the charts.

“ I am doctor Claire Colina,” she said in a mellow voice. “You’ve been through a lot.” Her eyes were kind.

“ Kinda feels like it,” Geralt said, wincing as he tried to find a better position. The doctor glared at him.

“ You’ll need to stay put. I’m going to give you pain medication, but only as long as you promise you won’t even think about getting out of that bed until I give you the green light.” She walked to the monitor and pressed some buttons, pursing her lips.

“ The surgeon informed me he had to remove several shrapnels near both your lungs and heart, and that the damage to your left hip has been extensive. It will get better with time, but you need to be extremely careful,” she said after a while, producing a syringe and an ampoule from her lab coat pocket.

Geralt nodded. He didn’t feel like he would be out and about for a good long while.

Doctor Colina smiled at Ciri. “You’ve been very brave, but you need to get some sleep too. If you want, I can prescribe you a mild sedative.”

Ciri opened her mouth, clearly to protest, but then caught Geralt’s eye. “Alright,” she sighed. “I could maybe use a few hours of proper sleep.”

The doctor nodded knowingly. She pushed the filled syringe into the IV port. In a few seconds Geralt felt his eyes droop, and then soft sleep took him.

The next time he woke up, the room was empty and hazy sunlight was spilling through the blinders. Geralt yawned, trying to make his brain fight the foggy mush inside his head. He was feeling thirsty.

Someone had left bottle of water on the night stand, and he made an educated guess it was meant for him. Wrestling the cap off was a challenge with one hand, but out of spite he didn’t call for help. He managed to drop the cap, but it was a success all the same.

Geralt sipped the water carefully and tried to take stock of his injuries without doing anything that would invoke the wrath of doctor Colina. He could tell he was wrapped in what felt like several miles of bandages, and the skin under them was feeling raw. There were several spots which flamed with angry stabs when he felt them. His left hip was one big, dull point of raw pain, throbbing even through the haze of the medicine.

Geralt didn’t hear the door opening, but suddenly a familiar face at the foot of the bed registered inside his cloudy head, and he dropped the half-empty bottle to the floor.

Regis was standing there, in his white coat and messy hair, with a face that suggested he was seconds away from crying.

“ Hello,” he said in a small voice, wrapping his arms around himself.

Geralt’s face broke into what felt like the first smile in months. He lifted his right hand, and Regis came to him, sitting at the edge of the bed and pressing his forehead against Geralt’s. The second they made contact Geralt felt some of the pain fade away.

“ Hi,” he choked out. “Missed you.”

Regis drew back an inch and cradled his face in his hands. His eyes were glistening. “You scared us all so badly,” he said, voice wavering. “We thought you were going to die.”

Geralt swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Regis made a face. “Stop saying that.”

“ How did you even know I was at the hospital?” Geralt asked. Regis wasn’t letting him go, and he wanted to drag the doctor closer, despite knowing it wasn’t probably very good idea considering his injuries.

Regis sighed. “We… finally concluded that our life was sorely lacking. When Dettlaff and I came looking for you, we ran into Cirilla at your garage. She brought us here.”

“ Wait,” Geralt muttered, frowning, “does she-?”

“ She guessed, yes,” Regis said, watching him closely. He had an odd expression on his face, like he was trying to decide how to broach a difficult topic. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“ No, I don’t.” Geralt frowned. “Where is she?”

“ Dettlaff convinced her she needed to go home and take a shower and have a proper meal. She’ll come back in a few hours,” Regis said. The weird expression didn’t ease from his face as he finally sat back and reached for Geralt’s hand.

“ What is it?” Geralt asked him. “You look like something’s wrong.”

Regis looked down, playing with Geralt’s hand. “When you came out of the surgery, your friend came here. He gave us your letter.”

A rush of cold, followed by something hot went through Geralt. His throat seemed to close up, and he drew in a shaky breath.

“ I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” he said in a low voice.

Regis made a small smile. “He suspected you would not be delighted, but I thought it prudent to tell you.”

Geralt looked down. He was suddenly feeling stripped bare. There was a reason those letters were not delivered until the writer was as good as dead; he had poured his heart and soul into them, and the things he had said were something he would have never dared to utter in any other context.

He had been biting his lip so hard it had bled when he had penned the letter to Regis and Dettlaff. Abandoning pretenses and just letting all the hidden thoughts come out had felt good, but Geralt had never imagined he’d have to face the day when the recipients had had a chance to see into his soul. He had been honest, but he was almost sure there was such a thing as too much honesty. At least for a living person.

Regis’ fingers returned to his cheek and gently pushed his face up. Geralt had a hard time meeting his eyes. When he finally did, he saw that Regis was looking at least as wrecked as he was feeling.

“ I’m sorry,” Regis said. “I’ve been missing you terribly. I knew right away I had made a mistake in December, but I couldn’t face it until a short time ago.” He blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. “I love you too.”

Geralt ignored the pain that shot up his chest when he moved, dragging Regis into a kiss. Regis made a desperate whimper when their lips met, and it sent a violent shiver down Geralt’s spine. Dear gods, how he had missed Regis. He carded his fingers through the curly hair and pressed into the kiss, and something frenzied was scrabbling at the back of his head. He had wanted to hear those words for so long.

“ I love you,” he croaked when they parted. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

Regis wiped his eyes, and his smile was more like a grimace. “We have a lot to talk about, but I must let you know we’d love to have you back, if you can forgive us.”

“ Of course,” Geralt said. He didn’t have to think about it. No matter how much shit they needed to work through, it would be infinitely better than what the winter had been like.

Regis looked down. “And… I will tell you about my past. I should have done it much sooner.” His voice cracked at the last syllable, and Geralt pulled him into another kiss.

***

When Dettlaff opened the hospital room door, he could sense right away that the atmosphere had changed substantially. When he had left with Ciri, heavy sadness had been hanging over everything, swallowing the pale light and dampening the air. The room had felt small and suffocating, the walls closing in.

Now the blinders were open, and sunlight was making the room seem airy. Dettlaff’s eyes turned slowly towards the bed, and Geralt met his gaze, his face breaking into a relieved grin. Dettlaff felt his stomach drop, and he had to restrain himself to not rush to the man.

Regis gave him a small smile from where he was sitting by the bed next to Ciri. He still had his lab coat on, but Dettlaff could tell he had not left the room after he had sent Dettlaff a message to let him know Geralt was awake.

Ciri, who was looking much better, gave Dettlaff a happy smile. “Thanks for forcing me to go home for a bit. I feel almost like a human being now.”

“ The pleasure is all mine,” Dettlaff said, smiling back at her. He was coming to like Geralt’s daughter. She was clever, but also exactly as impetuous and temperamental as her father.

Dettlaff’s eyes were drawn back to Geralt, who was sitting up on his bed and smiling that same soft smile. Something trashed violently inside Dettlaff’s chest. Regis had told him Geralt had awaken and wanted to see him, and Dettlaff knew he had broken the speed limit at least twice on his way from the university to the hospital.

Ciri glanced at him and then made a show of looking at her phone. “I’m gonna leave now,” she announced. “I’ll be back in an hour.” She got to her feet and hugged Geralt. “I’ll bring you something to read when I get back,” she promised, grinning knowingly. Geralt rolled his eyes at her, but smiled back nonetheless.

Geralt reached for Dettlaff the moment the door closed, and Dettlaff went to him without a second thought. Feeling Geralt hug him close and being alive made his breath stutter, and when Geralt brushed his lips against his temple Dettlaff let the breath go out of him.

Geralt’s hand came to rest against Dettlaff’s cheek, and he looked questioning. Dettlaff closed the distance without thinking. Geralt pulled him closer, and Dettlaff feared his heart might finally give out. Geralt’s lips were chapped, but they were so familiar, and Dettlaff had missed him too much. The winter and the depression had held him in such a tight grip that when that tension finally snapped, he couldn’t help the tears from spilling over.

Geralt pulled back and wiped his cheek with his thumb, looking worried. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“ It’s not okay,” Dettlaff said, struggling to breathe. “I feel horrible for what I did to you.”

Geralt smiled sadly. “I know. I forgive you. It’s not like I did much better.”

Another sob tore free from Dettlaff’s chest. It was all too much. After half a year of bleak darkness the world was exploding back into light and color, and it was overwhelming. He felt Regis move to sit next to him, hugging him lightly.

“ I wanted to call you back immediately after you left, but I was too damn proud,” Dettlaff continued. He needed to get it out. “And I  _ knew _ I should have run after you, but I just couldn’t-”

Geralt pulled him closer, and Dettlaff leaned his head against his chest carefully.

“ I know. I’m sorry about my behavior and that you ended up in a situation where you needed to read that letter.” Geralt’s voice was hoarse, but his heart was beating and he was alive, and Dettlaff drew in a breath to catch his scent. It was buried under disinfectant and hospital smells, but he knew it would return when he got better.

“ But as I said to Regis, it was all true.” Geralt’s voice pulled him back.

Dettlaff lifted his head, and Geralt kissed him again, lightly and carefully. “I love you, and I wanted to say that so many times. I’m sorry it took this long,” Geralt said and smiled.

“ You know I love you too,” Dettlaff said. His mind was suddenly very empty. He had hoped to hear it for months, because deep down he had been afraid that this whole thing was only a delusion his chemically imbalanced brain had cooked up to torture him. But Geralt had written the words, and now he had said them with no hesitation.

Somehow they managed to arrange themselves on the bed into a nearly comfortable pile. They lay together for a long while, Dettlaff’s head tucked against Geralt’s uninjured shoulder and Regis pressed close to him on the other side. Dettlaff gripped Regis’ hand, and his partner looked back at him with calmer eyes and a soft smile.

Geralt slowly recounted what had happened after they had broken up. He told them about the army and the deployment, and then listened in turn when Regis filled him in on their life. It was sad, but not in a crushing, desolate way; Dettlaff thought of drawing out bad blood, of poison seeping out from an aching wound. It left him feeling marginally better.

Regis kissed Geralt slowly before they finally extracted themselves, knowing other people would soon arrive.

“ You’ll be released in a few weeks, if all goes well,” Regis said. He was suddenly looking shy and fidgeting with his cuffs. Geralt looked at him, smiling and looking curious.

“ Would you like to… come home with us then?” Regis asked quietly. “You’re going to need help with the bandages, and I’d feel a lot better if I could–”

“ Regis, shut up. Of course I will,” Geralt cut in, drawing him down and kissing him again. Something settled back into place inside Dettlaff at the knowledge that they might be able to fix what they had broken.

***

Agreeing to stay with a doctor who was prone to fretting had been a mistake, Geralt decided three days after he was finally declared healthy enough to go home. Regis had come to pick him up and had forced him to ride a damn wheelchair into the lobby, even when the bastard had known Geralt was able to walk. Just not very quickly.

It quickly became evident that his body, while no longer feeling like it was coming apart if he so much as sneezed, would take a long time to heal. Walking with the damn crutches was one thing, but even small tasks left Geralt exhausted. He needed several naps a day, as well as help with stuff like dressing, washing, and changing the bandages. The meds helped, but they had weaned him off the good stuff pretty early on to his stay at the hospital, and it meant that pain was a constant companion.

Staying with Regis and Dettlaff was comfortable, however. They took turns to work from home to keep him company. Geralt told them they didn’t need to, but secretly he was happy he didn’t have to be alone. It was much easier to settle back into normal life when you could just reach out a hand and grab either of them, and receive as much affection as you could hope for. After the winter, they were all feeling kind of clingy.

The heavier subjects had been put aside for the time being, but this time Geralt didn’t feel like they were skirting around them. They had just wordlessly agreed they would be talked about a bit later, when Geralt was feeling better.

Geralt woke up from a nap and carefully stretched on the bed. He could tell his hip had taken the worst of the damage, because it kept aching no matter what he did. Regis promised physiotherapy would help, but to begin that he would need to get a bit better first. Geralt was old enough to know healing was mostly frustrating and slow.

Regis opened the door and smiled when he noticed Geralt was awake. “Good afternoon. How are you feeling?”

“ Okay,” Geralt said. He stretched out a hand, and Regis crawled into the bed and pressed as close as possible before carefully wrapping his arm around Geralt. Geralt sighed happily and nuzzled Regis’ cheek.

“ I’ve said this before, but damn I missed you,” he muttered, allowing his eyes to slip closed.

Regis let out a content huff. “And I believe I’ve told you the feeling was very mutual.”

“ Still,” Geralt said, “I’m glad you wanted me back.”

Regis pulled back a fraction and smiled. “There was never really any question about that. Only our thick heads were unable to see past troubles we created ourselves.”

Geralt shrugged, remembering to do it using his healthy shoulder. “I was as bad as you guys.”

Suddenly Regis’ face grew serious. He was silent for a second, and when he spoke, he sounded fearful.

“ I told you I would talk about my past. Would you listen now?” he said with no preamble. Geralt reached for Regis’ hand.

“ Of course, if you’re sure you want to do it,” he said quietly.

Regis sighed. “We need to have a serious talk about the nature of this relationship soon, at any rate. I don’t want you to lack any details when we broach the topic.”

Geralt nodded. Then he waited and watched as Regis appeared to organize his thoughts, his brow furrowing and his eyes taking on a stubborn sheen. It was as if the doctor was preparing to fight his own secretiveness.

“ You wrote in your letter that I am gentle and caring,” Regis finally said. “The sad truth is that I haven’t always been that way. To put it bluntly, I was an appalling excuse of a human being for all of my younger years.”

Geralt wanted to argue, but he held his tongue. He had promised he’d listen without interrupting, and he knew from experience it was better to get it all out before listening to an answer.

Regis considered him for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “I was a smart child, and got into med school easily enough because I was from a wealthy, if emotionally cold, family. I initially overcame my shyness by resorting to drinking, and later to drug use.” Regis’ gaze fell, and Geralt squeezed his hand in silence. He wanted to show that he was listening and not judging.

“ I managed to pass through school without ever getting caught by my superiors. I initially thought my recreational habits were contained and that I had the upper hand, but as I started practicing medicine, it quickly became evident that my personality was largely unchanged underneath the intoxicants. I was still timid and insecure. Some failed relationships only served to underline that.

“ During my residency the drug use started to slip out of my control. I had managed to fool myself until then, but the addiction was starting to affect my daily life. It had ceased to bring me any comfort or joy, and eventually it dawned on me that I no longer cared about anything else. All that mattered was the high, because without it life seemed bleak and unimportant.”

Regis drew in a breath and closed his eyes. Shame was working its way to his face, and it seemed to be crushing him. Geralt idly wondered how many people Regis had ever confined in.

“ Instead of doing the honorable thing, the  _ right  _ thing, and exposing myself, I only took further steps to keep my problem a secret. A woman who I had been dating for a couple of years saw something was wrong, but I hid the extent of my addiction even from her.

“ Now that I think about that time, it seems absurd that I managed to hang on for as long as I did. Eventually my behavior got bad enough that the woman I mentioned left me. I was… devastated, heartbroken. And still I continued, because by that time I didn’t know there was an alternative. My life started to spiral out of control. I pushed every ounce of my willpower to my work, but at the same time my world was crumbling. And then…”

Regis fell silent, clearly struggling to formulate the words. He breathed slowly, and Geralt recognized it as what was instructed to do to avoid hyperventilating.

“ One night I was working at the emergency room. They brought in an old man. He was clearly homeless and an alcoholic, and seeing him somehow shook me to my core. I was high, because at that point I was already feeling like nothing mattered. Maybe I even hoped I would get caught.

“ At any rate, the old man was having trouble breathing. I tried my best to ease his pain, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. The ER was packed that night, and we were short-staffed, so I was left alone with him. No one else took notice of him until his heart stopped. Then it became evident he was having a massive stroke, and it was way too late to do anything.”

Regis looked up, and his face was twisted with guilt. “That man died because I cared more about my own petty addiction than about the patients I had given an oath to protect.”

Geralt struggled to wrap his head around what he was hearing. He squeezed Regis’ hand. “What happened after that?” he finally asked.

Regis looked away again, pulling in on himself. “I didn’t get caught,” he whispered, eyes distant and lost. “And like a coward I never told anyone about it. No one was interested in a homeless man, and it was passed on as one of those pitiful cases when a chronically ill person who had abused their body for years is beyond professional help. I never found out if I could have done anything, but there was always a real possibility I caused that man’s death.

“ I took half a year off, claiming I wanted to travel, and forced myself to go off the drugs. I completely isolated myself from my old friends and acquaintances. In the end, I moved away and completed my residency in a different hospital where I had an opportunity to start anew. After I graduated I made a conscious decision to focus my attention on research to avoid committing such mistakes again, but also because I was scared to death of treating real people.”

“ How old were you when this happened?” Geralt asked.

Regis frowned. “Thirty three,” he finally answered. “So you see, I cannot pass it as something done out of youthful stupidity. Eventually I started treating patients again, but I was reluctant to do so at first. And all the while I guarded myself closely, because I couldn’t afford myself to slip again. It resulted in a very lonely existence.”

A small smile tugged at Geralt’s lips. “And then Dettlaff found you.”

Regis smiled sadly. “And then a beautiful man who had no idea who I was decided he wanted to get to know me,” he said, nodding. “And I was horrified at the thought of opening up. I had spent many years with no close friends and alienated from my family. When Dettlaff tried to engage me in a conversation I just… froze. I had no idea how to socialize outside of a professional context, and the fact that Dettlaff was younger than me and extremely handsome only served to make me flustered and awkward.”

Regis’ smile fell as he looked at Geralt.

“ I felt horrible when I realized he had managed to penetrate my shell despite my best efforts to drive him away. Dettlaff was kind and intelligent, and I was so drawn to him I feared I might go crazy. He was the first man I had ever been attracted to, and that only made it worse.

“ In the end, I couldn’t stay away. I was so starved for affection I ended up kissing Dettlaff right after his promotion ceremony, and we stumbled into a relationship against our better judgement. It was lovely for a few months, but then my own ghosts started haunting me so badly I spilled everything in hopes of scaring him away.”

Regis closed his eyes. “He didn’t leave. I have no idea why, but Dettlaff stayed. He forced me to get help, forced me to start healing properly.”

“ He loves you,” Geralt said. “It’s clear to anyone with eyes to see.”

Regis opened his eyes. He looked like he desperately wanted to believe what Geralt was saying.

“ I don’t deserve him,” he begun, but Geralt cut him off, finally kissing him and dragging him into his lap. His chest and hip protested, but he needed to get his own feelings through. He kissed Regis for a long time, demanding and trying to show him how wrong he was about not deserving anyone.

“ You do,” Geralt said when they parted. He didn’t let Regis back away. “You screwed up, but you learned from that. From what I hear, you’ve spent the several years trying to make up for your mistakes. No one should carry that burden so long.”

Regis looked like he wanted to protest, but then he sighed. “That is more or less exactly what I wanted to tell you on several occasions, to be honest,” he said, and his voice seemed a touch stronger as he looked at Geralt.

Geralt understood what Regis meant, and grimaced. “Regis, no, that’s different-”

“ How is it different, Geralt?” Regis demanded. “If you can make a claim that I deserve to be forgiven, then the same logic applies to you. You deserve to be happy and heal.”

Geralt wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Regis it wasn’t the same, that he had caused much more damage than he ever had, but he couldn’t. Not when Regis was looking at him so sharply, his black eyes fierce and protective and his mouth set in a stubborn line.

“ We’re both just as bad at this,” Geralt muttered, tugging Regis back against his chest. The doctor settled against him, bringing his hand to caress Geralt’s cheek. He smiled faintly.

“ That is true.”

“ Thank you for telling me.” Geralt met his eyes, even when it felt difficult; almost like admitting to their mutual absolution. “I love you.”

Regis drew him closer, his lips brushing against Geralt’s. “I love you so much. I feared you would come between Dettlaff and me, but the truth was much more complex. You pushed us out from our comfort zone, and showed us what we had been missing,” he said quietly.

Regis closed the last small distance and Geralt melted against him, relief and hope making him dizzy.

***

Geralt slid the key into the lock and once again wondered how easily it turned, making a satisfying click. The door swung open and he went in, pausing to pull it closed behind himself. He kicked off his shoes and glanced at the door once more.

Regis and Dettlaff had given him a key to their apartment.

There hadn’t been any grand ceremony. Geralt had mentioned he needed to go see Roche at the base to discuss his eventual return to work, and Dettlaff had glanced at Regis before walking to the foyer closet and digging around for a while. When he had returned, he had pressed a brass key into Geralt’s palm and smiled.

“ I think you’re going to need this,” he had said. Geralt had been struck speechless, and Regis had grinned when he had slipped it into his keychain.

Geralt found Regis and Dettlaff in the living room, which was unusual considering it wasn’t even two in the afternoon.

“ Hey, I thought you guys would be at work.”

Regis glanced up from his book and put it aside before pulling Geralt down onto the sofa.

“ We managed to coordinate our holidays,” he said, looking smug. “How did it go with your commanding officer?”

Geralt wriggled until he was laying half on top of Regis. “Roche called me an asshole and told me to come back in three weeks if I’m healed enough to continue training the newbies,” he said. “He also claimed to have opposed the deployment, but I know him too well to believe a word of that.”

Regis chuckled, and Dettlaff smirked.

“ So, it seems we have some time off,” the man mused as he got up from the armchair and joined Geralt and Regis on the sofa. “Whatever shall we come up with?”

Geralt grinned, and something warm bloomed inside his belly at the look Dettlaff was giving him. Regis hugged him closer and kissed his temple.

“ I told you we would need to have a serious discussion,” the doctor said as he nuzzled Geralt’s hair. “I think now is as good a time as any.”

Geralt nodded. Before, the words would have sent a chill down his body, made him apprehensive and skittish. Now he was feeling much calmer. He trusted that whatever they ended up deciding, he wouldn’t have to fear being abandoned. It was a totally new experience after spending months worrying and being miserable and uncertain about everything.

“ I think the mistake we made was that we claimed to be honest despite hiding crucial things,” Regis said carefully. Geralt was glad of his skill of articulating the feelings for them.

“ I was afraid of Geralt coming between us, and I tried to ignore that fear because I was feeling so drawn to him,” Regis continued, addressing Dettlaff.

Dettlaff nodded to his partner. “I tried to be honest, but I don’t know how well I succeeded, either. My own personal problems made it difficult to distinguish the feelings.” He looked at Geralt. “I’m currently looking for a therapist,” he added quietly, and Geralt scrambled up to kiss him.

“ Proud of you,” he breathed when he drew back. Dettlaff bit his lip, but couldn’t help smiling.

Geralt laid back down and looked from Regis to Dettlaff. “I already spilled my guts in that damn letter. I’m sorry I didn’t speak up sooner. I’m still feeling scared I’ll screw up your relationship, but if you’re sure about this…”

Regis smiled at him. “Not being together didn’t really work, did it? How about we do it properly this time?” he said in a soft tone. “Without any chance of misunderstanding.” Regis looked at Dettlaff, who smiled wider. “Do you want to be in a relationship with us? As an equal, and not as an addition, like you seemed to think last time,” Regis continued.

Geralt felt happiness crash into him when he nodded. He didn’t know what to do with all the feelings he was currently experiencing, so he settled for kissing Regis, gentle and slow, savoring the knowledge that they wanted him, and he was allowed to want them.

Dettlaff reached for Regis once they parted, and kissed him lightly. “I love you,” he said. “I love both of you.”

Geralt leaned back on the sofa. He could suddenly tell what had been missing last time: this calm, slow happiness. That he could look at Regis and Dettlaff, and know that it was alright to touch them and tell them he was in love and didn’t want to leave,  _ and  _ know they were finally on the same page about everything.

He still wasn’t prepared to believe in happy endings, but it was looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr, [come say hello!](https://merulanoir.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I dearly love your comments, and this series is such a special baby of mine. <3


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